Page 225 of Quinlan

Rex hasn’t been grieving Blake’s death, I think. I don’t know that he ever has. The pain doesn’t follow him around like it does with me. It’s not an excuse for his behavior.

What caused Rex to be this controlling asshole is because I’ve been useful for him.

All those years.

All those fucking years.

He’s been pretending to be a saint when, in fact, he’s always been a monster. For over a year, he’d tortured three little kids.I’m not sure why he didn’t lay a finger on me, but I’m not grateful for it.

I’m so furious I can hardly see straight.

The people in suits and casual outfits and whatever the hell else blur in front of me. My eyes don’t see the street signs or awnings as I pass by the storefronts. My heart remembers the way to Maeve’s, and that’s all that matters.

My biceps strain, reminding me of the work Rome and I had done together in the gym. Nothing scares me anymore. Not a damn thing.

I might take things too far if we’re alone. In that case, I’ll knock him out, tie him, and call Damien to finish the job. He won’t get away with it.

Good idea, brain.

If Rex isn’t at Maeve’s, if he’s on his day off, I’ll just go to his apartment.

Minutes pass as I power walk through the city. I’m a ball of fire. A tornado hurtling forward at rapid speed.

A car screeches to a stop behind me. My breath hitches at the abrupt sound. I don’t stop, though, not for a second.

In a couple of minutes, I’ll make it to Maeve’s.

A strong arm covered in a dark blue jacket hooks around my middle, knocking the air out of me.

“What the fuck?” I gasp.

Stronger fingers dig into my waist. I’m being hauled into a firm chest. A man that pins me to him. A man whose lean and long body fits mine in a very familiar way.

But I can’t be sure. He could be a random kidnapper. A rapist.

The people on the sidewalk. Yes. They’ll help me if I scream, at least one of them.

Except my throat is too choked to scream. The man drags me back toward the curb. Must be to his car.

It’s now or never.

When I finally find it in me to scream, my sweatshirt is being yanked out of my grip and pressed to my gaping mouth before any sound comes out of it.

“Darling. You’ve been a bad girl. Such a bad girl.” Damien. It’s Damien who’s hard behind me. Whose heart rages against my back. His lips are in my ear. “Can you guess what happens to bad girls?”

I’m scratching his forearm. My feet try and fail to lift off the sidewalk to stomp on him.

I have things to do. An uncontainable, justified rage to unleash. It’s too big to contain. Too much for me to just stay here.

“Let me go,” I scream into my sweatshirt.

No one hears me. Not even Damien.

“Shh.” He shoves my cheek to the cool metal of his SUV. When my sweatshirt falls to the ground, his palm comes up to my mouth instead.

I look at him. My eyes talk for me, begging for him to listen. Telling him I have so much to make up for. That it’s wrong that I got to live an ignorant life while he…

While he…

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