Page 53 of Killer's Obsession
“I didn’t lie?—”
“A lie of omission is still a lie!” I shout, surprising both of us with my volume. “This is my life, Killer! You don’t get to decide what I can or can’t handle!”
I start to laugh, but there’s not a damn thing funny. “You were right about one thing. I am strong. But you…” I shake my head as another piece of my heart breaks. “You didn’t trust me.”
“Baby—”
I hold up a hand to stop him from saying anything else. I don’t want to hear anything he has to say. “Save it, Killer.”
His expression hardens slightly. “Nikolai is still looking for you. I claimed you as my old lady to ensure you’d have the full protection of the Saints. It was the only way to keep you safe.”
“That wasn’t your decision to make!” I’m shouting now, anger and hurt pouring out of me. “After everything I’ve been through—having my choices taken away; how could you do the same thing?”
“It’s not the same thing,” he argues, his voice rising to match mine. “I was trying to save your life!”
Tears well up in my eyes as I offer him a watery smile. “That’s not love, Killer. That’s possession.”
He flinches like I’ve slapped him. “Don’t say that. You know how I feel about you.”
“Do I?”
“You’re mine, Memphis,” he growls, his eyes flashing with hurt and anger. He reaches for me, but I step back, putting more distance between us. The pain that flashes across his face almost makes me waver, but I hold firm.
“I need some space,” I say, wiping at my tears. “I can’t be here right now.”
His head jerks back. “Memphis, please?—”
“No.” I move toward the closet, pulling out an overnight bag. “I need time to think.”
“Where are you going?” His voice holds a note of panic.
“To Jade’s,” I answer, not looking at him as I throw clothes into the bag.
“Let me drive you at least.”
“No.” I pull out my phone, already ordering an Uber. “I’ll get there myself.”
I need to do this on my own. Without him.
He’s silent as I move around the room, gathering essentials. The tension between us is thick, suffocating. When my phone pings with a notification that my ride is approaching, I zip up the bag and head for the door.
Killer blocks my path, his massive frame filling the doorway. “Memphis, please. Don’t leave like this. Let’s talk.”
“You had weeks to talk to me,” I say coldly. “You’ve done all the deciding for both of us up until now. It’s my turn to make a choice.”
The car outside honks its horn.
“Move, please,” I say, not meeting his eyes.
He doesn’t budge. “Memphis, I love you.”
The words I’ve been dying to hear feel empty. This is the first time he’s said them, and it’s like this—with tears and anger and betrayal between us.
“If you love me,” I say quietly, “you’ll respect me enough to give me space right now.”
Slowly, reluctantly, he steps aside. I brush past him, the bag clutched to my chest like a shield.
At the top of the stairs, I pause, turning back to look at him. His blue eyes are filled with pain, his jaw clenched tight.
