Page 110 of Ramsay

Ramsay tuts and I mentally sigh as he says, “Who helped you with the pictures and texts?”

Fuck. At least this is an easy one.

“Hate,” I grumble, and my displeasure is not feigned. Better for me though if they think I’m resistant but amenable.

Ramsay cocks his head and I relax my fingers, the motion a reminder to keep my tells far away from this conversation. He’s too observant as it is.

“Is that why you were with him Saturday night?” he asks.

“Yes,” I lie. I don’t know why. I guess I’m afraid this will all be for naught if I admit what I did. Maybe, if this isn’t an elaborate lie, I can tell them later?

Ramsay’s brow twitches and I raise my chin before sneering, “What about you? How does Sabrina know all my dirty secrets?”

“Under the circumstances, we’ve already shared our one secret but since it involves you…yes we fed her the information.”

“Dick,” I mutter. “So, what? She’s your lackey?”

Ramsay follows my gaze to where Sabrina is sitting with the lemmings. As if sensing our gaze, she looks up and her brows crinkle.

“She does as she’s ordered,” Ramsay says, his stone-cold gaze inspiring her to drop her head.

The obeisance burns my skin and I wave my hand, saying, “I’m not her, so if you think—“

“You don’t understand but I’ll be happy to inform you. Sabrina is a tool, you’ll be our,myqueen,” Ramsay cuts in to say.

Queen?

Dumbfounded, I stare until Ramsay gently closes my jaw and says, “We’ll deal with our issues later. Get to class, love.”

Reeling, I don’t think to argue and grab my bag before heading to the door. When I glance back, Ramsay is watching with his eternally cool blue eyes.

“Remember,” he says, “this can’t be undone.”

With a nod, I exit the cafeteria and walk down the hall. What the fuck did I just get myself into?

∞∞∞

Hate shows up later that evening and I meet him on the front stoop, dressed in jammies and wearing a grim expression. He eyes me up and down and sighs as I hand him the keys to his vehicle, parked down the street in case my parents actually decide to pay attention.

He mutters a few words that leave me stunned before walking away. At the sidewalk he calls out, “Cherry?”

“Yeah?” I rasp, looking up.

“I don't want to hear from you again. You got out. Let’s keep it that way.”

Nodding slowly, I watch him pull away as I collapse on the stairs. My first urge is to call Dixie, but I don’t have my phone, and the poor girl is dead. What a cluster.

A chill runs through me and I trudge upstairs before falling into bed where I drift off to sleep, visions of a hooded man chasing me through the forest riding through my dreams.

I’m so damn exhausted and heart worn, I skip school the next day, my parents none the wiser. My mom even asks me absently from the table how school was when I go down around lunchtime and grab some cereal.

With a grunt, I leave her to her perpetual grief and close myself in my room, mulling over Hate’s words as I consider my options.

How do I process what Hate told me?

Part of me doesn’t believe it’s even true. Why would they trade that information away for an incriminating picture of me? What am I missing?

Chapter Twenty-Three

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