Page 121 of Ramsay

Tilting his chin, Ramsay leans forward and barks, “Calm down.”

“Ha! No fucking way. Do you know what Crush will do to me? The shit before was just child’s play.”

Absently, I note I’m shaking. This is the real deal. I’ve provoked the beast. Nothing can get me out of this. Nothing.

“Look, we’re working on it,” Ramsay mutters and I laugh, the bitter sound harsh to my ears.

“You’re fucking delusional.”

Ramsay raises a brow and leans into my face, his jaw tight as he says, “I said, we’re working on it.”

Flipping him the bird, I spin to Diem and spit, “Any other fucking cousins I should be aware of?”

Before he can answer, I grab my bag off the chair and rifle through it, ignoring my shaking hands.

“Willow,” Ramsay says in a warning tone that I ignore as I slam my notebook on the table.

“How did you get this?”

The silence that follows skitters down my spine in a warning and with a tickle of caution, I say, “Well?”

“What is it?” Ramsay asks and I meet his stone-cold stare.

“Oh? We’re going to play dumb now? Fuck you.”

He slams his palm on the table but when I merely raise a brow, he says, “What. Is. It?”

“Okay, let’s play your little game,” I sneer. “If you don’t know what it is, how did your father get it?”

All the air sucks from the room as he rises from his seat and the back of the chair rebounds off the wall. With his hands clenched at his sides, he twists his head from left to right like a fucking demon from hell and says so quietly, I lean forward to hear, “What did you just say?”

“Ram,” Oliver says but he waves his arms and rounds the table, approaching me with a ferocity that inspires me to step back.

“Well?” he barks. Fuck me but he’s intense right now.

Avoiding his acidic glare, I wave at the book, and say lamely, “Your dad.”

“You’re telling me my dad gave you the book? When?”

I flinch at his rapid-fire questions and avert my gaze, staring at the wall. What’s caused this transformation? Me or his dad?

“Willow,” he growls, and I roll my neck, mumbling, “He came to my house last night.”

“Oh shit,” Diem says, as Ramsay grabs my chin.

“Oh shit, indeed,” he rasps. “What did he say?”

Searching his gaze, I find nothing but blown pupils and a wildness that scares the shit out of me as I say, “He apologized for the pranks, um you know your shit and gave me back the book.”

He glances at the book before grabbing it up off the table and flipping through the pages. While he’s otherwise occupied, I back away cautiously, only stopping when I’m flush with Diem at the counter. I can’t help but fidget as he reads through my words, written during a time of desperation that is hard for me to admit.

He doesn’t comment though, when he looks up but his brows twitch as he looks between Diem and me before his heated glare inspires Diem to take a single step away.

The reprieve is short though before he waves the book at me. “What is it?”

“You really don't know?” I ask in disbelief.

“No,” he barks. “I don't.”

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