Page 131 of Wicked Rockstar

The wordcowardignited something in me. My past and present collided as I heard the same word echo in my mind, but in my father’s voice. Years of suppressed anger and jealousy burst to the surface. “I watched her foreighteen yearswasting her love on someone who didn’t deserve it. On someone who used her and her unconditional devotion like it was nothing.”

“Usedher?” Peter’s face flushed a mottled red. “Tris is my best friend. She’s my family!”

“She wasin lovewith you,” I shouted. “And you knew it. You fucking knew it and you kept her close because you wanted the attention.”

Peter’s jaw clenched. “That’s not true.”

“No? Then why are you here now? Because you suddenly realize you love her? Or because you can’t stand the thought of her not worshipping you anymore? Or—because you can’t stand the thought of her with me, your biggest rival?”

Something in his eyes changed. The darkness I glimpsed earlier returned. “You think you know me so well? The truth is, you’ve always been jealous. Jealous that I had the talent. Jealous the label wanted me. Jealous that Tris?—”

“Don’t go there,” my voice hardened.

“—loved me and not you. She’s settling for you because I never wanted her that way.”

There it was. He’d finally admitted it.

I didn’t consciously decide to move. One moment I was standing there by my guitar, the next my fist was connecting with Peter’s jaw. The impact sent a shock wave up my arm, butthe pain felt distant, secondary to the white-hot rage consuming me.

Peter staggered back, touching his lip where blood had started to bead. For a split second, shock registered on his face. Then he launched himself at me.

His shoulder caught me in the stomach, driving me backward until I slammed against the soundboard. Dials and sliders dug into my spine as Peter’s fist caught me on the cheek.

“You never could handle the truth,” he spat, drawing back for another punch.

I ducked. His fist grazed my ear, and I pushed him off me with enough force to send him stumbling back. “The truth? You want the truth?” I followed him, grabbing the front of his designer shirt. “The truth is that you’ve had everything handed to you your entire life. Including her love. And you neveronceearned it.”

He broke my grip and swung again, catching me in the ribs. Pain flared, but my adrenaline dulled it almost immediately. I caught his arm on the next punch and used his momentum to spin him around and push him through the open door.

We spilled out into the hallway. “Fuck you, Killian,” he spat, a spray of blood from his lip getting on my shirt. “I had just as shitty of a life as you did. Just because I tried to make mine better and you didn’t have the strength to stay?—”

I grabbed his shoulder, spun him, and pushed him face-first against the wall. “I walked away because it was killing me to watch her love you,” I growled into his ear. “It was killing me to see you take her for granted. To see you string her along.”

He twisted, breaking free, and his elbow caught me on my cheek. I staggered back. Peter didn’t waste the opportunity. His fist connected with my jaw, snapping my head back.

The metallic taste of my own blood filled my mouth. Through the ringing in my ears, I registered the sound of heavy footstepsrushing towards us. I blinked and found the source, Security guards drew near with Jareth close behind.

“What the hell is going on here?” Jareth’s authoritative demand cut through the haze of my rage.

But Peter and I were beyond listening. We grappled, and fell to the ground, rolling over each other on the floor.

Strong hands grabbed me from behind, pulling me away from Peter. Two security guards I recognized had me by the arms, while Jareth himself stood between us, his tall frame blocking my view of Peter.

“Enough!” Jareth’s voice boomed. “Have you both lost your everfucking minds?”

I struggled against the security guards’ grip, still trying to get at Peter, who was being restrained by the third guard. Blood dripped from his split lip, and a bruise was already forming under his left eye.

“He started it,” Peter said, sounding like the twelve-year-old boy I’d once known.

“I don’t care who started it,” Jareth said. “This ends now.” He looked between us, disgust evident on his face. “This is a professional recording studio, not a boxing ring. I want the two of you and Trissa in my office. Now.”

The mention of her name was like cold water dousing the flames of my anger. My gaze met Peter’s, and I saw the same realization dawn in his eyes.

A gasp echoed in the suddenly quiet space. I jerked my head up to lock eyes with Tris. She stood, frozen at the end of the hallway, her trembling hand clasped over her mouth.

“Let them go,” he told the security guards, who released us but stayed close. “In my fucking office. All three of you!” Jareth barked out, his voice tight with anger.

I straightened my shirt, wincing at the pain in my ribs. Peter dabbed at his bleeding lip with the back of his hand, looking anywhere but at me.

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