Page 96 of Bad Little Bride

“What room?”

“Miss Revenaw?—”

“What. Room?”

She hesitates a moment, a flicker of something in her eyes that looks a lot like pity, the reason for it clear with her next three words. “Notwhatroom…”

Whoseroom.

The thrill of the afternoon is defeated by a thousand thorns, prickling across my body and thickening my skin through the metaphorical scars they’re sure to leave behind.

The room I was tossed in when I first arrived is two flights of stairs below this one, down a fifty-foot hall, and around a corner that leads you to an entirely different wing of this mansion.

I’ve been sleeping a mile away from my husband, while his ex-wife sleeps next door.

I don’t realize I’ve moved until Grandma speaks.

“What are you doing?” she asks as casual as ever, tailing my every move when I dart toward the opposite wall. Her eyes go wide when I take a chance, slamming my fist into a shelf similar to the one in my room—myoldroom—and what do you know, a gun pops out.

Thanks for the tip, dear husband.

“A Smith & Wesson SD9. My favorite.” I flick my eyes from the weapon to her. “No safety, just need a firm trigger finger.”

“Miss Revenaw…” she warns, backing up a step when I lift it into my hands. I don’t miss the two slides she shifts to the right, as if trying to block off the doorway.

It only pisses me off more.

So she runs my bathwater and pours my champagne. What the fuck does it matter if the girl she’s willing to take a bullet for is the one that I replaced?

Maybe she wishes I didn’t.

What if she wants Katana to retake her position at Enzo’s side?

I lift the gun, aiming it at her head and tilt mine. “You know why my family forgives me every time I fuck up, Grandma?” Her eyes narrow and I cock the gun, flipping my wrist toward the ground, so my ring is pointed to the ceiling, my finger hovering just over the trigger. “Because they know I’m batshit. You haven’t seen that. Enzo hasn’t seen that, but soon, if this shit keeps up, you will. Now…move.”

She fists her hands at her sides. “I cannot allow you to kill her.”

“Assuming you could stop me would be your first mistake.” I walk closer, pressing the gun to the underside of her jaw, and she lifts a brow. “And who said it was her who’s dying today?” Grandma’s confusion is quick. Good. Welcome to the club. “I need answers, Grandma, and I’m ready to get them.”

“You don’t want to shoot anyone here.”

“But I will.”

Grandma’s attention snaps over my shoulder, her eyes blowing wide as her arms swiftly loop around my back, attempting to spin us around as she shouts, “No,” just as I hear another voice rattle, “Kill her and I kill you.”

I don’t even tense, fear oozing from the newcomer’s tone so plainly, it’s disgusting, not to mention embarrassing. Grandma is still trying to spin me, which, aww! I knew she liked me, but not the time. I wrench from her grip and flick my eyes toward the ceiling at the sound of a safety flicking off.

Is this chick for real?

I don’t move, giving her the best target you could ask for. You know, if you’re a take-them-from-the-back kind of girl. I, for one, want to see the look on someone’s face before I ruin their fucking day.

I hold still for one second, two seconds, and just as I suspected, footsteps draw her closer.

Such a newbie.

I spin, sweeping my leg out, disarming and knocking her on her ass in one, perfect little twirl.

“Ah!” Katana cries, scooting back with wide eyes, gripping her wrist like a little bitch.

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