Page 53 of Ramsay

So proper, this one. Suppressing a snort, I walk by him but pause when he grabs my arm, “Willow?”

“Yes?” I mutter, tingles erupting along my skin.

Suppressing a shiver, I pull away. I knew this would be my penance for that damn video, but I just hope it’s not more than I’m willing to give.

“It goes without saying you’ll tell no one,” he says, his icy cold demeanor back in place.

Nodding mutely, I escape before I do something stupid like beg. Is that what Sabrina did? And did he oblige her? Shit, I’m fucked in the head.

Chapter Twelve

Willow

Oliver’s waiting for me when I emerge, and silently, I follow him to the car, but he stops me before I reach his sensible sedan and motions me toward Ramsay’s sleek black SUV.

I have too much on my mind to truly process how quiet he is as he drives, and I watch the scenery pass by in a blur.

I don’t want to go home, but I can’t avoid it forever and I’m not clear on whether I hope my parents will be gone or not. I need them, but it feels as though they don’t need me. Carmen's death only exacerbates the divide between us, and with every day, it grows wider.

I’ve gotten back at Sabrina, but the victory feels hollow in the wake of Ramsay’s potential participation in her quest to lose her cherry.

I’ve been summoned to play some nefarious part in a game this evening where I don’t know the particulars nor the stakes and I’m walking a line, I fear I may fall over at any time. The question is, will there be a net to catch me when I do?

Not to mention Jagger has resurfaced, intent on I don’t even know what, but I do know it won’t be good. This is all a cluster, and with every step I take, I drop down a deeper hole in which I’m not sure I can emerge.

Shivering at the imagery, I breathe deeply and try to shake Carmen’s pleading stare with her mouth open on a silent scream from my mind.

We pull up to my house sometime later, but at first, I don’t notice so caught up in my thoughts as I am and I jump out of my skin when Oliver says beside me, “We’re here.”

Blinking, I raise my eyes to the facade of my house. I’ve no energy for what might greet me on the other side, but much like the mockery of my entire life, I have no choice.

Glancing at Oliver, I whisper, “Thanks. You didn’t have to take me out of that hellhole, and you did.”

His lime green eyes stare at me, the usual void behind them marked with a savage intensity because whatever upset him earlier remains, and the darkness beneath lurks beside it.

“What happened to you?” I whisper, before biting my lip.

His eyes flicker before his mouth curls up in a cold smile, and he says, “Nothing.”

Scoffing, I look away, unable to bear the censure because he’s pushing off ‘fuck you’ vibes right and left, and it’s painful.

My chest aches at the brush off, especially after I splayed my vulnerability wide and resisting the urge to say something rude, I grab the door handle and mutter, “Whatever.”

“What happened to you?”

Letting loose the handle, I turn to him cautiously. His brow is raised in question, a sarcastic expression to be sure, but I see the curiosity behind his eyes. And maybe something else, maybe understanding?

“My parents, my sister, my own fucked up choices.”

His eyes flicker before he murmurs, “And Jagger?”

“The biggest mistake of them all,” I say with a small, sad smile.

“Did you love him?”

A chuckle escapes before I can stop it, but it’s not one of amusement more bitterly resigned. “No, he was a means to an end.”

He looks away, his jaw clenched before saying, “Whatever you think you know about us, it’s wrong. After tonight, all bets are off. Walk away while you still can, Willow. You don’t want to see what happens if you don’t.”

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