Page 40 of Vengeful Sins

What did I expect from that threat? For her to maybe look at me? To shock a little life into her? Right now, I would settle forthat. If she would glare at me or curse me out or even spit on me, the way she probably should now that I’ve mentioned Tiana.

Here I am, standing here, waiting for her to bitch me out. Feeling more and more like a smacked ass with every silent moment that passes. What the hell is she thinking?

Whatever it is, she’s not telling me. Folding one arm, she grips her other elbow, bringing to mind a shell that’s closing to protect what’s inside. Protecting her from me? I mean, it’s not that she’s completely safe with me, but I’m not trying to hurt her now. I want to come out and say it—to ask her who the hell she thinks she is, denying me like this, assuming I would have an ulterior motive.

“Whatever,” she murmurs before I have the chance to issue another threat, and the flat, empty tone in her voice prickles my skin in a way the coldest wind couldn’t. There’s something eerie about this, something unsettling. Much more than the irritation of her closing herself off, refusing to meet me halfway.

“Look at me. Look at me,” I demand when she scoffs, finally taking her chin in my hand and tilting her head so our eyes meet. “I’m going to ask you one more time. What is happening with you? What was the emergency?” And why the hell does she look like something inside her died? No matter what I’ve done to her, no matter what anyone has done, she’s never looked like this. Completely disconnected.

“Are you finished?” she whispers. What little light was in her eyes draining.

I am finished, because she’s freaking me the fuck out.

“Yeah,” I mutter, releasing her chin, backing away. “I’m finished.”

“Great.” Without another word or even a glance my way, she leaves me standing alone, disappearing deeper into the library.

What. The. Fuck.

I should let it go. It’s not worth it. She’s not worth it. I’ve already wasted too much time on her today. Over the weekend, too, as I argued with myself over whether I should check and make sure she was okay. Her problems are not my problems. I need to forget her.

If only it were that easy.

Dad is going to have to get over me skipping class. It’s not like I would pay any attention, anyway. Not with Maya’s wounded eyes fresh and clear in my memory. Not with her flat, disconnected attitude plaguing my mind, making me ask questions whose answers I shouldn’t care about. Why can’t I go back to not caring? Is that too much to ask?

It’s Wren I’m looking for, and I find her leaving the cafeteria on her way to her next class. I’m glad I caught her, calling out her name and jogging her way when she stops and looks around to see who is trying to get her attention.

My strides almost falter when her expression shifts on noticing me. Is it dread? That or something like it. Why would she dread talking to me? I continue at the same pace, almost reaching her before I have to ask myself what I’m going to say.

I don’t feel like tiptoeing around the topic, so I jumped straight in. “What’s wrong with Maya?”

Her eyelids flutter and color floods her cheeks. Maybe she doesn’t want to tell me, but there’s obviously something wrong. I really hope she doesn’t think she can get away with lying about this. I’m not in the mood to have more of my time wasted.

“I don’t think we should talk about this.” Well, at least she’s not giving me some bullshit about everything being fine. I can be grateful for that much.

“I think we should,” I counter. “She called me on Friday night, needing help, and I ignored her. That’s on me. Was there something I could’ve done? Is there something I can do now?”

Her brows knit together over the bridge of her nose while her lips draw together in a thin line. She’s fighting with herself. It kind of makes me want to scream—every second that passes ups the tightness in my chest and the rushing of blood in my ears.

“She’ll be so mad if she knows I told you. But… am I a bad friend if I let her go through with this without saying anything? I don’t even know if there’s anything that could stop her or make it better.”

“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, folding my arms, glancing around to make sure nobody’s listening in. The way she makes it seem, this is pretty serious. “How bad could it be? This is Maya we’re talking about.”Yeah, Maya, whose dad locks her in the house and is probably capable of a lot of worse things.

“It’s pretty bad,” she whispers. When her eyes well with tears, my heart drops like a rock. She steps up closer, so I’ll bend lower to let her speak straight into my ear.

Then she tells me. She tells me everything.

And it’s all I can do to hold back my rage.

20

MAYA

My heart is threatening to beat out of my chest and my stupid hand won’t stop shaking as I lift the pen and bring the tip to the bottom of the paper. I let the metal pen glide right above the dotted line and watch my signature appear in black ink. My mouth goes dry, making my tongue stick to the roof of it.

“Now that we’ve got the contract out of the way,” Lucian says in a friendly tone. “You have one more choice to make before you walk into that room. Would you like to know what my client has planned for you, or would you rather be surprised?”

My mind is reeling with his question. Do I want to know what this random man is going to do to my body before I walk into hell, or should I go in blind? I doubt Lucian could tell me anything worse than what I’ve already conjured up. But what if it is? Could it be so bad that I change my mind or is it already too late? I just signed the contract. Would Lucian still let me walk out of here now?

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