Page 73 of Atone

“Oh, come on,” Maddox eggs me on. “That’s wicked. I want to see it.”

“It’s been a while,” I lie, given I just threw one at Alex’s head this week. “I’m out of practice.”

“You can’t be that bad.” Maddox grins.

Marco leans against a post again, assessing me. “I don’t know, man. You want to stand up there and let her throw ’em at you? How fucking high are you right now, anyway?”

“As a matter of fact…” I smirk. “Why don’t you stand up there, Marco?”

“Fuck no. You’d hit me on purpose.”

He isn’t wrong.

“Besides.” Marco’s dark eyes skim me. “I bet the rumor was bullshit. With a rack like that, you don’t actually have to be good at doing anything. You were probably just a pretty circus act.”

My entire body tenses.

It’s bad enough that he’s not entirely wrong when that’s how my parents treated me. But to hear it from him takes an ice pick to my insecurity.

I’m still swallowing Marco’s insult when Alex steps forward.

Knowing what he did to Oxy, I lift a hand to stop him from killing Marco on sight. But he doesn’t head toward Marco; he aims for the platform, standing in the center of the target.

“Should we actually be doing this?” Maddox looks around.

“No one’s watching.” Marco shrugs him off. “If Alex wants to trust her just because he’s fucking her, let him.”

I hate that Marco is weaponizing what I do with Alex when it’s none of his business. Men fuck whoever they want, but God forbid a woman do it.

Using that thought as fuel, I step forward and grab the first knife from the row of six sitting on the table. Whoever is in charge of this act is reckless to leave these sitting out. When this was my job, my knives never left my side.

I slowly roll my wrist, assessing the weight of the hilt and the sharpness of the blade. The knife I threw in the office wasn’t technically a throwing knife, but this one feels like home.

I turn to face Alex, who hasn’t so much as removed his hands from his pockets as he stands facing me. His face is completely blank, and I wonder if he trusts me that much or if he stopped caring about facing death after surviving it once already.

“Scared?” Marco taunts from my left.

I toss him a glare, hating how easy it is for him to dismiss me and treat me like I meant nothing to him. I harness that thought as I lift my arm and take a deep breath, blocking out Marco and the carnival music. I ignore the smell of popcorn and the sounds of voices all around.

My focus is only on Alex, who is silently handing me the trust I haven’t earned.

With that thought fastened in my mind, I wind my arm back and then throw the knife.

Alex doesn’t flinch as it lands in the wood beside his head. Like he truly doesn’t have a care in the world if I hit him or not.

Marco has at least fallen silent beside me, while Maddox whoops and the girl beside him claps. It’s sweet even if her stumble tells me she’s drunk.

“That was luck.” Marco huffs. “Bet you can’t do it again.”

I know Marco’s comment is said to irritate me, so I try not to let it get under my skin.

“What are we betting?” I can’t help myself. “If I hit the target again, will you finally leave me alone?”

Marco’s gaze narrows. “If you hit the target again—without hitting Alex—I’ll leave you alone all next week. But I already warned you this isn’t over, baby.”

I roll my eyes when he winks, wishing he had stepped on the platform so I could miss on purpose. At least his offer to leave me alone for a week is something. So I pick up the second knife and throw it.

The blade lodges itself on the other side of the target, a hair away from Alex’s shoulder.

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