Page 93 of The Hate We Breathe
Before he can finish his statement a shadow moves, sprinting fast and sudden out of the darkness and around the side of the walls surrounding the door we just came through. A scream lodges in my throat and I throw myself forward to try and tackle him, but it’s too late.
The baseball bat comes down hard on the back of his head, slamming into his skull with such intensity that I watch, in horror, as his eyes go hazy for a split second before he crumples. His gun hits the gritty rooftop and skitters away.
“Lex!”
The figure drops the bat and launches themselves towards the gun.
“Motherfucker!”The curse flies from my lips as I switch goals at the last second and instead of reaching for Lex, I turn and dive for the gun. My bare arms hit the rooftop and for a brief second, my fingers graze the handle of the weapon only for it to be ripped free.
Rolling onto my back, I groan and wince. Wet, hot liquid slides down the side of one of my forearms and I have no doubt that I’ve scraped the skin hard enough to make it bleed. Blinking away the pain, I look up and squint at the figure standing above me.
The gun is now aimed, pointed directly at my head, the end of the barrel almost illuminated by the dim lights that emanate upfrom the city streets below. Then, my eyes refocus on the person holding the gun.
“What the fuck?”
Lex’s groan echoes from somewhere behind the figure, but I’m too caught up in the shock of who they are. As if the universe itself is cooperating for the dramatic reveal, the clouds above us shift, slowly revealing the moon and its light. The glow frames their body, from the short hair that hangs in a wild halo around their head to the determined stance and the hate-filled gaze that’s centered on me.
Roquel Lee is my fucking stalker.
35
JULIET
“Get the fuck up.”
Roquel’s voice cuts through the silence, and the gun aimed at my chest gleams beneath the rooftop floodlight—an unholy halo framing the woman standing in front of me.
Slowly, I push myself up, palms dragging against the rough concrete until the grit grinds into my skin. My ankle screams in protest, an ache winding up my leg, but I don’t give her the satisfaction of a wince as I get to my feet. I straighten and meet the gaze of a liar and a murderer.
She looks feral. Unhinged. A trembling muscle tics in her jaw, and her usually fashionably messy hair more tangled and wild than soft. She’s dressed as if she’s supposed to be attending the formal below, a black cocktail dress wrapped around her thin frame and dark, opaque tights shielding her legs, ending at a pair of ankle boots. Her eye makeup is dark and sharp. If she weren’t standing there with a gun aimed at my chest, I’d say she was pretty. Now, she just looks insane.
Roquel’s gaze cuts past me. “You too, asshole. I know you’re awake. I didn’t hit youthathard.”
Honestly, I’d argue if I didn’t think it’d get me shot. She wasnotaiming to merely incapacitate Lex, but probably intending to knock his ass out.
Behind me, Lex groans—a low, guttural sound that could be pain or strategy. I pray it’s the latter. The sound of the bat meeting his skull still echoes in my head as a nasty reminder that this woman is not who I thought she was. The scrape of fabric rustles behind me, accompanied by the drag of boot soles on gravel—he’s moving, deliberately slow. Buying time.
The night presses in, heavy and suffocating. My heartbeat slows to a dull, steady thud, like my body’s trying to muffle the terror or the rage clawing at my insides. I stare at the girl holding the gun and see every memory of her unravel: staying at her house, hanging out with Mads, walking the halls of Silverwood Public.
It feels obscene now. Like watching a home movie of a ghost. It reminds me of the reason I came up here.
“Where’s Mads?” I demand. My pulse kicks hard, fury rising like blood in water. Madison’s terror on the phone wasn’t fake—she’d beenwarning me.
Roquel snorts, her grin sharp and ugly. “Relax. She’s here.” She jerks the gun toward the dark corner of the roof. “Took a little nap after she made her call.”
I don’t look behind me, too afraid to see if that ‘nap’ was the forever kind. Instead, an icy anger floods my veins. “If you fucking hurt her, I?—”
“You’llwhat,Juliet?” Roquel interrupts, a hysterical-sounding laughter spilling out of her mouth. She tilts her head at me, arching a brow. “Are you gonna beat me up?” She gestures with the gun, daring me. “Go ahead. Try it. Let’s see if you can take a bullet as well as your boyfriend.”
Anger is a seething animal inside me. Violent. Edgy.Hungry.I taste copper on my tongue from how hard I’m biting down, trying not to lunge.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Roquel’s upper lip curls back, exposing the whites of her teeth. It’s an odd expression—somewhere between a smile and a snarl. “What am I doing?” she repeats, her voice shaking and more than a little higher in pitch. “I’m finally doing what I should’ve donemonthsago.”
The wind howls across the rooftop, tugging at my hair. I already know what she’s about to say, but I ask anyway. “And what’s that?”
Her eyes blaze. “Kill you.”
