Page 48 of Rage

It killed me when she shot a final glance over her shoulder, closing the door behind her with a quietclick.

I heard her feet on the steps, counted them as she called out to that liar, hating that she felt the need to put on a show for him. That she needed to hide from him. That he was so dangerous, so callous, so violent, that he’d scared Tara, a girl who was unshakeable once upon a time.

I couldn’t let that sick fuck live another minute, breathing my air, wearing my name, using my image to get everything he didn’t deserve.

I glanced across the carpet as a plan formed in my mind, spotting the discarded pistol, feeling the weight of the bullets in my pocket still.

Hold on, Tara. I’m coming.

Chapter Seven

Tara

“Jesus, woman, what were you doing up there?” he spat at me, his face now a pale imitation of what I knew to be the reality.

I could see it now, the subtle differences. It wasn’t just those eyes. Kade carried himself with an air of confidence that his twin never possessed. That probably came with the territory of walking around in someone else’s skin, though.

“I dropped the groceries trying to get inside when I got home and got dirt on my clothes. I just went up to change them,” I said dismissively, hoping he’d buy it.

He buried himself in the fridge, rummaging around for a minute before he popped back up. His face contorted into a mask of indifference, though the rage was there, bubbling just below the surface.

I knew that look. And I knew what was coming. I just hoped Kade was gone, so he didn’t hear what was inevitably coming next.

“Where did those beers from last night go?”

I shrugged, pretending I had no clue. “Aren’t they in there?”

He slammed the fridge door, stalking over to the island in the center of the kitchen. “If they werein there,I wouldn’t haveaskedyourworthless ass, Tara.” His hands balled into fists, and I cringed subconsciously as I remembered the other night when he’d finally done what I never thought he could do—reared back and socked me in the eye with his fist.

“Well, maybe you drank them?—”

I was fast, spotting his arm as it launched across the counter in my direction, but I wasn’t fast enough. He grabbed my hair, which had fallen out of my bun, and yanked me over the marble surface as I screamed at him to stop, feeling the roots of my hair give way in his grip.

“Ow,ow,come on, you’re hurting me, Antony?—”

His grip tightened as he stilled, and what felt like an eternity passed as he and I stared at each other, me on my back on the counter, him above me, eyes wide, a new emotion in their depths as he processed what I’d just let slip. What I’d just called him.

Shit.

“What did you just call me?”

I swallowed against the panic crawling up my throat, making me nauseous as fuck as I realized I was about to get far worse than just a black eye.

What would he do to me?

“I asked you a question, bitch,” he snarled, slamming my head against the counter for emphasis. “What did you just call me?”

“N-nothing,” I lied, gritting my teeth as he yanked me closer, my scalp on fire now. “I swear, I-I?—”

“Where did you hear that name?”

My eyes widened as he reached toward the knife block at the end of the island, his hand inches away from a weapon that would mean death for me. I closed my eyes and cursed my sex-addled mind for forgetting the gun I’d bought yesterday to protect myself if it ever came to this. If I ever worked up the courage to leave.

“Who told you?!?”

I closed my eyes, prepared for the end, when a sound over his shoulder stopped both of us in our tracks.

It was the sound of a gun being cocked.

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