Page 80 of Unorthodox
He presses it against the back of Dante’s head.
This is my fault.The realization crushes down on me, but I force it off as I scream.
“No!” I start running, not thinking, adrenaline propelling me forward. “It wasn’t… He wasn’t…” The words are clawing their way up my throat, but I can’t voice them. Instead, I reach my arms out to shove Max away from Dante, but before my hands connect with him, a shot rings out.
A second later, I collide with Max, and he stumbles a step, but his arm comes around my shoulder, steadying both of us.
I press my face to his chest, not wanting to see what he just did as a strangled sob tears from my throat.
I don’t hear Dante.
I don’t hear anything except a ringing in my ears as I close my eyes, Max’s arm wrapped tight around me.
For a moment, I stay there in his arms, my thoughts swirling and spinning into chaos. I can’t chase them, can’t follow a single one.
I don’t understand.
He shot him.
Max shot Dante.
This is my fault.
My mind seems to settle into that single thought, blaring in my head above all of the others. I always knew Max was a monster, even when he came to comfort me after Ben.
But I thought, somewhere, he had some kind of code. Some sense of honor to at least the people who worked for him.
I thought, too, that if I just played this game, if I just did what he wanted, if I went through the motions, subjected myself to his torture, I’d come out of this okay in the end.
But I’m not going to.
Dante didn’t, because of whatIdid. And I won’t come out of this okay, either, no matter what I do.
Because Max doesn’t know honor. He doesn’t have a code. There is no virtue known to a man like Max Bennett.
And in this moment, I realize that even if I do as I’m told, even if I follow all of his commands like a good dog, even if I submit to him, Max is unpredictable. I’m not going out of this unscathed, and even if my father miraculously produces the money Max is demanding for me, I don’t think he’ll send me back to that hell.
I think he wants the worst for me.
And while my father is a devil, I could escape him if given the chance. Instead, the worst for me lies in someone willing to pay outrageous sums of money for a teenage girl’s body.
The worst for me lies in staying here, with a man like Max Bennett.
I push away from him, and he lets me go.
Stumbling back a step, I still don’t look at where Dante stood just moments ago. Instead, I stare at Max.
His eyes are on mine, the gun still in his hand, by his side.
A bird caws somewhere in the distance as I take another step back, away from where I last saw Dante.
“You’re insane,” I tell Max, balling my hands into fists as I walk backward, putting more distance between us. Because I’m going to run, and I don’t care what he’ll do to me when he catches me. I never really wanted to die before this moment, but I know that death would be better than wherever Max is going to take me.
He killed his own guard in cold blood.
He’d do much, much worse to me.
“You’re insane,” I say again, my voice hoarse. “I’m not…I’m not staying here.” I almost choke on the words, my breathing labored and quick, as if someone is sitting on my chest. “I’m not doing this.” I feel dizzy as I take another step back, like I might faint.
