Page 71 of Ramsay

“Why did you do it? Hm?” Ramsay asks, stalking toward me. “You were doing so well with your sobriety, weren’t you, love?”

Brushing a stray strand of hair back from my face, he says, staring into my eyes, “Or maybe you think it’s what you deserve?”

Flinching away, I step back and turn to stone, ignoring the way my skin starts to itch. Despite it all, I fight to maintain a calm facade because I may be dying inside, but this fucker will never see he’s gotten to me.

Something flickers behind his eyes, and he hesitates with his hand in the air before stepping back and slipping it in his pocket.

Diem shuffles behind him, but I don’t break my stare and pull my lips into a humorless smile, as I say calmly, “What do you want?”

“For you to disappear. But you just can’t follow directives, can you, love?”

My gaze bounces away at his words. To disappear. Invisible. It’s all anyone ever really wants from me.

When I don’t respond, he tsks, “You’ll help us get rid of Jagger.”

Numbly, I nod. I don’t fucking care anymore, and fatalistically, I say, “Whatever. It was gonna happen eventually. Can I go now?”

A low growl erupts behind me, but Ramsay shoots Oliver a look, and the sound dies down. “Very well, but be prepared for the next step, Willow.”

Without acknowledging him, I hold out my hand for my phone and Diem looks at me with a pained expression before slapping the phone in my hand.

Spinning on my heel, I make for the front door and just keep going when I reach it. I lost my shoes earlier, so I’m barefoot, but I don’t register the stones digging into my feet.

Somewhere during that conversation, I checked out, and the numbness in my heart and mind is a welcome balm.

Perhaps I didn’t need drugs, after all and I guess I can thank Ramsay for at least that much.

I’m halfway down the drive when the SUV pulls up beside me and ignoring it and whoever happens to be inside, I trudge along absently.

If I’m going to be responsible for bringing down Jagger, then it might as well be on my terms, and I don’t need the Sinners for this. I’ve got bigger fucking fish in my basket.

“Get in the car,” Ramsay says.

Stopping in my tracks, I gaze out over the landscape, the beauty lost on me, before rounding the vehicle and climbing inside.

Thankfully, it’s just Ramsay, because I’m in no mood to face off with one of them, much less all three. He pulls off in silence, and we don’t speak until we reach my house.

My parent's car sits in the drive, and I grit my teeth, reminded all over again that they fucking forgot me, at a graveyard no less.

Spying my shoes on the floor, I grab them up, but before I can reach for the handle, Ramsay breaks the silence. “What did you mean? About lesser evils?”

Clenching my jaw, I gaze blindly out the front window, and say caustically, “Sometimes calling on the devil you know is a better bet than the one you don’t.”

He swings around but I don’t meet his gaze. “How many devils do you have?”

Wrenching on the door, I mutter, “You don’t want to know.”

∞∞∞

Ramsay

Why did she do it? Is it an irrepressible need in her veins? Does she care so little for herself?

She knows Jagger is bad news. Yes, I asked around after the last time. It was no mystery he must be affiliated with Crush. The fact that he’s his right-hand grunt is bad fucking news.

And now sweet little Willow is seeking him out for the high she thinks she needs?

Why?

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