Page 233 of Vicious Saint
“Not quite sorry yet, Seven.” I pull Halo from my Letterman pocket, already tight around my knuckles.
My conscience’s whispers appear like floating bubbles, the first line of defense before I start crossing the lines carved in my head.
Breathe, Saint.
You are in control.
The words are a mantra as I grin down at Annalie.
Theory dares to speak her defense after refusing my orders, once again putting me in a position to have to feed the beast.
“If you want your ex-friend to breathe again, sister, I suggestnicelyyou stop talking.”
She hesitates but listens.
“Halo or a broken trachea, Seven. I’ll be nice and let you choose.”
“No. Please.”
“Last chance.”
Annalie’s eyes bounce between Theory and me, and when accepting nobody here is willing to help, she grunts, “Halo.”
Guess Seven’s not so stupid after all.
But then I’m reminded how many times I’ve bent this bitch over tables at parties and fucked her ass as my teammates watched.
With a pathetic chuckle I remove my sneaker and drop to Annalie’s side. Then, as she squeezes her eyes shut and holds her breath, I run Halo up the length of her neck. “For my sister’s sake, and because I pity your useless existence, I’ll show you mercy this one time.”
Her eyelids spring open when I retract the weapon.
“I-I—”
“Are getting thefuckout of my house.” Rising to my height, neither Theory or I bother helping the bitch as she struggles to get up.
Removing Annalie from the picture may make it a lot harder to control Theory, but there’s no chance in hell I’ll allow this girl to continue corrupting her.
“I’m so sorry,” Theory says as Annalie dusts off her dress, but there’s no response other than a tight scowl as she snatches a bag off the vanity and stomps out of the room.
“I’m so freaking mad at you!” Theory screeches, pushing past me and disappearing inside her closet.
“I never should’ve let you hang out with Annalie.”
When she appears again, it’s with silk buttoned pajamas and angry strides toward the bed. “Let me, let me, let me! I am so done with your smothering.”
“She’s not good for you, baby girl.”
Theory plops onto the bed with a scoff. “Heard this one before with your traitorous bitch of an ex-girlfriend.”
I’ve grown used to hearing my sister refer to Hendrix with so much hostility, but it never gets easier knowing the truth on howlittle she deserves it. Especially after Theory told me she tried warning her about Annalie’s intentions.
“We’ll talk about this when I get home.”
“From where? The party you’re refusing to let me go to?”
“You don’t belong at these parties, Theory. Most of the people who go to them are assholes.”
“You definitely belong there, then.”
