Page 80 of Burning Daylight
“Juliette,” Paxton hisses.
I shoot him a glare over my shoulder before stomping up to Ryder until I’m right in his face.
We’re so close, I can hear his intake of breath, and electricity snaps between us the same way it always does. Only this time, it feels like it might burn me to a crisp.
“Jules,” Lance tries.
“Shut up, Lance. I’ll deal with you later,” I snap, keeping my gaze on Ryder. “Who are you?”
His jaw tenses, and he licks his lips. “You already know.”
I shake my head. “Don’t play with me. What’s your name? Yourfullname.”
He grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You first, Princess.”
Someone next to him scoffs. Rosalie, probably. And I bristle, because even in just the few times we’ve hung out, he only calls mePrincesswhen he’s not being sincere.
“Uh-oh, kitten’s got claws,” Benjamin jokes.
Merrick lets out a low whistle. “Ten bucks says she’ll hit him.”
I lower my voice, dread dripping through my veins like a leaky faucet. “I need you to just…tell me I’m not the stupidest girl on the planet. Tell me who you are and why you’re here withthem.”
His gaze breaks away and skims lazily over my brothers before landing back on me. “You’re not stupid.”
He doesn’t answer my other question.
“Ryder,” I whisper.
The tension radiates through me so strongly, it makes my voice shake.
Something that looks like remorse flashes on his face, but it’s so quick, I can’t be sure I’ve really seen it. That inkling from earlier breaks free and gallops through my chest like a stampede, and I back up a step.
I feel like I’m losing my mind. Like I’m staring at all the pieces of a puzzle but can’t figure out how to slot them together.
Footsteps sound from behind us, and the air changes again to something harsher. Colder.
“What’s all this?” The icy tone of my father breaks our stare-off, striding toward us with Tyler at his side.
“They’re trying to—” Lance starts.
My father stops and puts his hand up. Lance presses his lips together and quiets, but I see the way it pains him to listen.
Then my dad turns toward Ryder, and shock covers his face for a brief second, so fast that if I blinked, I would have missed it. Every ounce of warmth drops away from him like a funnel siphoned it out, and hatred oozes from his veins like it was born and bred within him.
“You,” he sneers.
Ryder doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t deny whatever was laced in my father’s tone, but his jaw flexes and his expression hardens into stone. Like he knew this was coming. Like he’s been waiting for the hammer to drop.
Which tells me one thing. He didn’t just keep things from me.
He lied.
All the moments we shared.Lie.Every touch, every whisper, every smirk across a table.Lie. Lie. Lie.
“Roman Montgomery,” my dad breathes. “You’re alive.”
And just like that, my world spins and my stomach bottoms out.
