Page 5 of Double Down
Maverick whistles low. “She’s pissed.”
“She should be,” Storm mutters. “She’s not wrong. She should be a part of this.”
Conrad says nothing. His jaw tightens and his eyes narrow as he looks at me, staring into my soul.
“Say it,” I demand. “Admit that you don’t trust me.”
“I don’t trust you,” he finally answers. “I can’t trust you with anything more than my cock and the pleasure we give each other. I can’t trust you not to run. I can’t trust you not to leave. Because you will. And when you leave, you’re going to break what’s left of us.”
I stare at him, rage bubbling up my throat like acid. “You’re scared I’ll run away and ruin what you have planned? Or are you afraid I’ll call your daddy?”
I know I’m going too far, but I don’t give a shit. The words, the threat and the rejection hang between us, making it impossible to breathe.
I won’t break.
I can’t turn back.
I can’t let him see how much his words have destroyed me.
Conrad is the one who looks away first, when Storm pushes past him. “Listen to him, Angel. Not because he’s an ass. Listen to him because I’m scared you’ll be next. And he’s right. Losing you will kill the last good part of my soul.”
That stops me in my tracks.
Just for a second.
He refuses to look at me as he turns his back. That, more than anything, shatters me.
“You don’t get to shut me out,” I whisper.
“You don’t get to demand entry,” Con bites out. “Not when you’re right and the message was clearly about you.”
His hand is on the door, and he steps aside. For a moment I think he’s going to relent. That he’s going to let me back in.
“Storm,” he says without turning to face me. “Get her out of here.”
“Don’t,” I say, stepping into his space, putting my hand on his back. “Don’t make this choice for me. Don’t take away my power.”
“I already did.” He pulls away from me, and the door closes behind him.
I’m not sure if the ringing in my ears is fury, heartbreak, or the beginning of something far worse.
Because he was right. Me leaving would hurt them…but he’s destroyed me.
The door opens again when Storm steps out.
He says nothing.
Neither does Atticus, who looks up to meet my eyes. Maverick kneels beside the body again and mutters something about disposal, pulling Atticus’s focus back down.
I just stand there, arms crossed, thumb tapping.
One. Two. Three.
One. Two. Three.
The pieces inside me are already broken and cutting away at my soul, reminding me that ultimately I mean nothing.
The spiral of dismay and reality drags me deep as Storm puts his hand on my elbow and guides me away from the scene.
