Page 85 of Thorns That Bloom
Excuses. All of it. The same fucking excuses they all used. I was conscious enough. I was aware of my body and of theirs as they held me and prevented me from leaving.
Neighbors. The idea of shouting, of screaming for help, flashes through my mind, but it disappears as quickly as it came. There are only three apartments on the floor, and I’ve run into someone only once since living here. Nobody is coming to help me, whether it’s because they don’t care or aren’t home.
Nobody is coming to save me. Like no one did back then.
Brandon leans against the door. His disgusting stench grows stronger, so much so that I face away and cover my nose. “Listen to me. That’s all in the past. It doesn’t matter now. It was a mess. All of it. It shouldn’t have happened the way it did, yeah, but…” He pauses, sighing. “Goddammit. Everyone’s been telling me I’m crazy for doing this, but Iknow, Sam. I feel it in my fucking bones.”
“You’re insane…”
“You can’t deny it. You can’t! You know it, too. I was the first to finish inside you. The first to fill you up. That child is mine, Sam. I’m sure of it.”
My entire body seizes with white-hot anger, burning me from within.
His words sear into my mind and make my head spin. ‘I was the first one to finish inside you.’ I can barely stand the storm it creates until suddenly, as if my brain decides it has to even out the chemistry before it explodes, a bitter chuckle shoots out of me.
Because it’s kind of hilarious, isn’t it? What did their expert call it in court? Rapid Onset Pheromone-Induced Delirium? All of that talk about how it wasn’t their fault. All of their long, regretful faces when they described the intense, horrifying way my heat somehow made them completely lose their minds… It was all fucking bullshit.
He knew. Theyallknew. They were there, doing exactly what they wanted and desired, conscious enough to pass me on and to remember who finished when.
“I want to be in his life, Sam. I have the right, don’t you think?”
It’s not a him. It’s a girl.Mybaby girl!
“Get the fuck out! Now!”
“Sam.Saaaam,” he says in that condescending tone again. “It wasn’t my fault. It was our pheromones. Our pheromones fit so well together that they…they were just too strong, and there was nothing I could do. Don’t you think that means something?”
The mere suggestion—the disgusting, manipulative,calculating implication that he wants me to believe whatever happened might have been anything even close to the pull of fated mates Theo believes we have—nearly makes me snap.
Or maybe Idosnap.
It is like a switch flips inside my head, and then an image appears. Image of the object at the back of my closet that calls out to me.
At any other time, I might have been reasonable. At any other time, I might not stoop to something like this, but there’s so much helpless anger within me that I have to act. Andthat thingis the only way.
I rush to the bedroom, dropping on my knees with a faint huff to push aside other boxes until I find the little metal one at the very bottom corner. I pull it toward me, resting it between my knees, and take a deep breath.
All rationality gets thrown out of the window. Because why should I be rational right now? Why should I listen to the insanity he’s spouting when I have this?
I open the box with a click and look at the small revolver. I bought it when I was, admittedly, not in the best state of mind. It was right after it happened, when I was scared and full of paranoia. I haven’t gotten it the most legal way, either, because who would sell a gun to a freshly traumatized victim of a brutal crime? Either way, I had to have it. It felt like every alpha I saw was an enemy. A ravenous monster itching to get me. I don’t even know why I brought with me here.
Well…it is coming in handy after all.
I grab it and get up, heading right for the door. Brandon’s still mumbling something behind it, banging and knocking and demanding my attention.
I’ll gladly give it to him.
With my finger on the safety and arm stretched out, I unlock the door and open it. Brandon nearly falls in. I’m faced with that cocky excitement in his eyes for a split second before he notices the gun and quickly jerks back.
“Whoa! What the fuck, Sam?” he blurts, putting his hands up. “You…really shouldn’t have this.”
“Why?” I bark at him. “So I can’t defend myself? To make it easy for you? Huh?” Seeing him still makes me feel like someone is scraping out my insides with a dull ice cream scooper. But I have power now. He knows that, I know that, and that feels fucking great.
“Are you seriously going to shoot me? You’re not a murderer.” With a faint smirk, he glances down at my stomach, and even that makes me feel violated and disgusted.
“I don’t know. Am I?”
Brandon frowns. “I get that you’re hurt…”
