Page 40 of Wicked Duty
Lucy
I pace furiously in the small space in front of my bed as Callum’s cruel words drive a blade into my heart.
How dare he say that about me?
His words were so offensive and preposterous that I can’t even stomach repeating them in my own mind. But here I am, spiraling anyway.
Screw Callum Kavanagh.
Just when I was starting to think that maybe he wasn’t so bad.
For a few ridiculous moments, when I clung to him like a lifeline, I almost wondered if we were going to happen. If the energy sizzling between us would combust into hot, liquid passion.
I dodged a bullet there.
What the hell did I ever do to him? I never asked for this. Does he think I enjoyhaving his overbearing ass up in my personal space day and night?
This is my nightmare, and he acts like I’m the problem.
Like I intentionally set out to complicate his life.
Bastard.
I nearly go back out there and start fury-cleaning, just to give myself something to do besides stew. But I can’t bear the thought of sharing a space with Callum.
Maybe I’ll reorganize my clothes to regain a small sense of order and control.
When my eyes land on my armoire to do just that, I stop short. The hairs on the back of my neck rise.
Two of the drawers are ajar. I remember closing them all this morning.
I’m the idiot girl in the movie who knows a serial killer’s after her but is still shocked as soon as one pops out from under her bed with a knife.
I drop to the floor and check, just in case. All clear.
But a strangerwasin my room, pawing through my stuff.
I spin around, panic softening my legs into gelatin.
The box of keepsakes on my dresser is in the wrong spot as well.
On the shelf, a few of my fashion books are out of place. My bed appears cockeyed in its frame, too, now that I think about it.
Swallowing hard, I throw my bedroom door open. As much as I loathe the idea of spending even a minute in Callum’s presence, I need him.
“Callum. Can you please come in here?”
In seconds, my jerk of a shadow arrives. “What is it?”
“Someone was in my room while we were out. They went through my stuff.”
I expect him to scoff and call me insane, but he does neither as he performs a visual inspection instead. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
He nods. “Pack a bag. We’re leaving.”
I blink. “Wait. What?”
