Page 100 of Runaways

I'm not a princess. And he can't save me.

"Did you ever find those cards, Lilah?" Mason asks.

"What? Oh. No, sorry. I didn't."

"Because someone emptied out my entire bank account this morning. They transferred it all to an international account in my name, then closed that account, and they don't know whathappened to it after that. They said there was no way to find out."

Fuck. That's why he looks so upset.

"I'm so sorry, Mason."

"Yeah…sure you are. You know, I'm starting to think what you said on the phone the other night is true."

"…What did I say on the phone?"

"That you're a bad person."

My mouth gapes. He looks me up and down, waiting for a rebuttal of some sort, something to convince him that he's wrong, maybe. When that doesn't happen, he shakes his head and turns away.

Tate laughs as Mason leaves the table, and I watch him make his way to the back of the bar, joining the group playing pool. He grabs a cue stick from the rack and glares at me one last time before turning his back to me and chalking the end.

I glower at Silas. "You did that, didn't you?"

He shrugs. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"Put it back!" I snap in a harsh but low tone.

"No fucking way," Silas says.

"He doesn't deserve it."

"Oh, sweetheart…" Tate says. He runs his fingers through my hair, and I flinch. "I thought I told you—anyone who touches you deserves far worse."

"The guy had forty thousand dollars in his account, Noah," Silas says. "Did you know that?"

I shake my head.

"What's a guy like him doing with that kind of money?"

"I don't know; does it matter?"

"We'll share it with you," Silas says. "Does that make a difference?"

I frown. "That's why you were in my apartment last night. You heard us talking at the café—you knew I had his debit card."

"Why'd you take it if you weren't going to use it?" Silas asks.

"I don't know. It's just something that I do sometimes—I hurt people; I hurt…men, mostly. Not the way you do, though." Just in small, inconvenient ways like I did before. "I think I do it because…it makes me feel a little better about everything else that hurts and feels unfair."

"That's not the only reason I was in your apartment, Noah." He reaches across the table for my hand. "I mean the things I say to you."

"That's so sweet; I think I have a little tear in my eye," Tate mocks. "Hey, Noah, why don't you sit on my lap?"

My eyes dart to Mason again. Maybe he feels it because he looks at me, too, before quickly averting his gaze.

It'll hurt his feelings. I'm already hurting his feelings.

"What are you looking at him for, huh?" Tate asks. "You love him or something?" He shifts his body toward mine, running his fingers up my thigh, and whispers in my ear. "Maybe I'll go over there and tell him about how you let us take turns with you…for hours. I'll tell him how much you like to be spanked and treated like a whore. Do you think he'd like that, Noah?"

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