Page 29 of Descent

Vincent seems surprised by Asher’s cooperation. He was clearly looking for more of a fight. Unfortunately, that leaves him without a target, and he sets his eyes on me. He closes the distance between us, anger still boiling just under the surface as he crouches down in front of me.

“Siren, why the fuck didn’t you call me?”

“I did,” I say softly.

“You called me when your fucking stalker showed up at the house. Why didn’t you call me when she assaulted you?”

I shrug my shoulders and shake my head.

“She slapped me, it’s hardly assault.”

“Not in the law’s eyes,” Vincent interjects.

Asher snorts. “Yeah, ‘cause you know all about the law don’t you.”

Vincent doesn’t even look at Asher as he continues staring at me. Past the blood-splattered face, I see an unmasked hurt and I hate that I put it there. Vincent wants me to need him, to rely on him, desperately. I think he believes that’s the only good he is to me. That he’s only here as a protector and if he’s not doing that…

“I was okay. I was safe. I knew you were busy, and I didn’t want to—”

“I swear to Christ if you say bug me, I’ll kiss you until your lips are bruised,” he groans in irritation.

I can’t help but give him a small, sad smile. That’s what he promised me the other day, in Ronan’s yard after he grabbed me a little too hard. He promised that from then on, the only bruises he’d leave on me would be on my lips. Good to see he’s attempting to make good on his promises.

“I’m sorry,” I say dejectedly, not having it in me to fight with him.

He blows out an angered breath, nodding his head as he stands up.

“Go clean yourself up and we’ll talk,” Ronan offers.

Vincent wordlessly nods and walks to the downstairs guest bathroom. Several minutes go by before there is a knock at the door. I frown at the sound, my body instantly tensing as Ronan stands to answer it. The living room is tucked out of view from the front door and Liam holds me closer than before. His hand running soothing circles on my back as the sound of the door opening echoes through the house.

Some murmured words are exchanged before Maggie meekly walks into the room. She looks around at the guys, not meeting Asher’s eyes as she looks to me.

“Hey, Sky.”

“Hey, Mags,” I say softly.

She stands there stiffly, twisting her hands together before she speaks.

“Can we talk?”

I nod, standing up and moving towards her. I feel all the guys follow me with their eyes, but I ignore them as I lead her upstairs. When we get to my room, I take a seat on my bed and she does as well.

We sit there in silence for several minutes, her eyes on her twisting hands in her lap before I speak.

“So, you and Bridgette?” I ask.

Her eyes come to mine, regret and sadness in them as she nods.

“Kinda. Not really. I mean, not anymore, you know,” she says, as she runs a hand through her thick red hair.

“As soon as she realized people were watching me console her in the dining hall, she shoved me to the ground. She called me a nasty lesbian and ran away crying,” Maggie scoffs, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip as she looks away.

My heart hurts for my friend and I reach my hand out, resting it on her leg as I squeeze. Her watery eyes come to me, full of shame and disappointment.

“What’s wrong with me? Why does it have to be her? She’s mean and vindictive and a fucking cunt. So, why the fuck do I still want her?”

A tear drips down her face, and I close the distance between us, pulling her in for a hug as she begins to cry into my neck. I hold her and let her release all the pent up hurt inside. Truthfully, I couldn’t tell her what the reason is for her not being able to get over Bridgette Brenton. Besides being beautiful, she has virtually nothing going for her. She’s a nasty bitch, and my best friend is one of the kindest humans you’ll ever meet. She deserves someone a hell of a lot better than Bridgette. Especially if that’s how she’s going to treat her.

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