Page 63 of Hidden Echoes

It’s only minutes later, standing alone on the sidewalk, that something clicks in my mind.

How does she know my name?

I never told her.

The moment I step into the apartment, Carter’s eyes meet mine.

He’s lounging back in his chair like he owns the place, like my presence is an inconvenience rather than a fact.

I know he and Zane used to share a place whenever they were here, but this time, Zane decided it would be just him and me—no sharing.

Carter seems annoyed that he now has to stay at a hotel or wherever the hell he goes. Not my problem.

My discontent with this boy was born the day we met, the moment he decided I was his enemy.

He’s lucky I didn’t react sooner.

The apartment is silent, yet Carter is still here. He watches me with thinly veiled disdain, arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable except for the sharp glint of something cruel in his eyes.

He was waiting for me.

“You came back too quickly,” he remarks, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Tired of causing chaos on the beach already?”

I don’t respond. I walk past him, heading straight for the bedroom, but Carter isn’t one to let things slide.

“I know what you did to Zane,” he adds, his mocking tone making me pause.

I turn my head slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. “Really? Can’t wait for you to fill me in on what I did wrong in your eyes, Carter.”

He scoffs. “You married him without his consent. Pathetic, really. As if trapping him would make him yours.”

I sigh, exasperated. “I don’t need to trap anyone. Zane offered to help me. He likes me. Not my fault you can’t see it. Maybe because you were never able to have that connection with him.”

“Connection?” Carter lets out a sharp laugh. “He doesn’t like you, Mia. He pities you.”

“That’s not true.” But my voice is weaker than I’d like.

“Yes, it is.” His smirk grows. “The real Zane would be drowning in a harem of girls—or boys—if he wasn’t afraid that you’d kill anyone he got involved with. The real Zane loves Hollywood parties. He drinks until he blacks out and fucks people without giving a damn about feelings.”

I shake my head, a little too amused by the whole thing. “It’s ridiculous that you’re trying to sell me this version of him. I know him. He’s more than that, and I’m not buying it. What happens between me and Zane—whether we got married, whether we don’t, whatever—we’reourbusiness. You can hate me all you want, but it’s not going to change the fact that he’smine.”

Carter’s lips curl. “Yours? Please. You know Zane only stuck around because he owed Charlie a favor. And you… you’re just a burden. A lost cause. Someone who’s holding him back.”

I stop. My fingers tighten around the doorknob. Something inside me locks up, like a spring winding too tight.

“Do you want to know the truth?” Carter continues, a cruel smile twisting his lips. “You took advantage of him when he was drunk. As if that would change anything. As if he would ever really want you. Who would? Who would want a bitch with no future?”

I smile, but it’s not because he’s right. Daddy didn’t raise me to be a prostitute. That was just a cruel twist of fate. Because I was always unable to succumb. My father raised me to be a killer.

He wanted someone who could eliminate enemies without them even knowing what was coming. But as he liked to put it—I was a defective product.

I don’t say anything. I turn, intending to head to my drawing kit, but then Carter speaks again.

“Maybe your mother was a whore too, and being an opportunistic tramp runs in the family. Maybe that’s why you basically abused Zane. Because you’re sick.”

I move faster than he can react. My fist connects with his face, the crack of impact echoing through the apartment. Carter stumbles back, clutching his jaw, eyes wide with surprise.

“Say that again,” I growl, my breath ragged, my body vibrating with fury. “Say it again, Carter.”

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