Page 244 of Vicious Saint
There goes the garbage can.
Levi emerging from the woods puts a small dent in his temper, but when Saint barks out the order for Theory to go home with his best friend, she does the complete opposite and jets across the dock.
Both Saint and Levi are hot on her tail.
Damn it, damn it.
My legs pump faster than I can register the decision to follow them, not giving a fuck about the bent “loose planks, tread lightly” sign that was recently assaulted.
The dock is long, and they were far away from me to begin with, so I just reach the middle when I’m cut off at the pass by a snickering redhead.
Not this bitch again.
“Stupid pig,” Annalie spits. “You stay acting like any of them give a fuck about you.”
I’ve got no time, or patience, to ring this girl’s neck. Not when Theory’s being left alone with Saint.
Or worse…Vicious.
Granted, if anyone is worthy of Saint’s absolute self-control over his demons, it’s the little sister he loves to mayhem and back.
“Getoutof my way.”
“So you can what?” Annalie’s eyes narrow to slits. “Run off and save a girl who doesn’t even like you? Has been talking the nastiest shit to me about you?”
I’m not lost on the fact this is probably the only valid point a brainless twit like her will ever make. I’m just lost on the reason to let it stop me.
“Theory’s my fucking sister, semantics don’t matter. Now I said get out. Of. My. Way.”
I could easily flick Annalie like the measly fly she is, but I’m looking to make a few points here too. Her irrelevance is at the top of the list.
“Oh my God, you’re even more of a pitiful fat bitch than I thought.”
I don’t know what triggered the newfound courage, but Annalie picked the wrong nightandthe wrong girl to test it out on.
“You’re even stupider than I thought, even with the fake set of balls you bought to challenge me with.”
“Oh, but you’ll never guess the little whore who sold them to me.” She leans in. “If you need a hint—she’s got a lisp, s-s-stutter, and a nasty scar under her jaw from opening too wide.”
Sloshing in my ears drowns out all the sound around me. No screaming Saint. Crashing water. Chuckling Annalie. Only me, my rising blood pressure, and the one girl left in this school I care enough about to be deemed a weakness. Who I know spent years struggling with her speech and being called a whore. And Annalie, whether aware of it or not, just dangled my breaking point like bait off a fishing rod.
“Are you aware of how desperate baby Lavell is? How easy it was to manipulate her into doing what I wanted?” She pauses, tilting the corner of her lips. “TowhoI wanted?”
My hands tighten to fists so hard they’re pulsing. “If you intend to walk away from this party with an intact jaw, I suggest you stop talking.”
It’s a lie. Annalie’s going to need a new profession regardless.
What she says next will only determine when.
“Come to think of it…I bet it’s not long before thewhoresurpasses her mentally deranged brother’s body count.”
Gasps and laughter from onlookers fill the air around us.
Guess she’s choosing now.
With a scream not far off from Saint’s, I tackle the bitch onto the dock, managing to climb on top of her and pin her arms with my legs. Carlo attempts to pry me off, but it takes nothing more than a demand in Italian for him to let me have this, he knowing more than anyone about the impacts of street justice.
The names Annalie called Theory and Saint play on loop in my head, becoming the driving force behind every fist I ram into her face and slap echoed throughout the sky.
