Page 55 of Worth

Claire eyes me with skepticism. “She doesn’t belong here, or you don’t want to admit that she couldwantto be belong here?”

I don’t respond, and after a moment of silence, she picks up her phone, likely pulling up whatever smutty romance novel she’s been reading. She won’t touch the classics I have on hand to save her life. When I’m sure she’s heavily involved in the story, I look back down at Blake.

I study her lips. Soft, sleeping breaths making her lips puff out with each exhale. I have to admit it to myself that Claire isn’t wrong.

It’s with that thought that I realize what’s bothered me about Blake all along.

It’s not that I want her to go.

It’s that she should.

Neither Aiden, nor I, could ever deserve someone like Blake. It’s why I’ve been punishing her for trying to fit in with us; for trying to become one of us. I hate Blake for wanting something she has the option of walking away from.

Because I had that option once too, and I didn’t take it. That choice changed me. It turned me into someone ruthless and cold.

Now I’m a villain in a story where I never had the chance to be the hero.

I only doze for a few moments before a sudden burst of energy lights up my body. But by the time it had hit, Zander and Claire had started talking and I couldn’t help but listen. I focus on keeping my breathing steady and deep, so it seems like I’m sleeping.

They talk about Stephen and Mordecai briefly, the air strangely tense during that time. It makes me curious why, and it takes everything in me not to pop up and ask.

“What are you going to do about her?” Claire asks, distracting me from my questions. I feel like a puppy whose ears have perked up.

“Make her go,” Zander answers. “She doesn’t belong here.”

The words are like an arrow to my chest. I don’t belonganywhere. This is the closest thing I’ve had to a family in years—maybe ever. A shitty, dysfunctional family, but at least it was better than the one I’d been sold from.

There’s a pause and then…

“She doesn’t belong here, or you don’t want to admit that she couldwantto be belong here?”

Zander is silent, and I find myself at a loss for words too.

Do I want to belong here?

I think about the weeks I’ve spent in this house, and with Aiden and Zander. There’s good and bad and fucked up and perfection all tangled up within the days and minutes and seconds here. Fifty-percent of the time, I want to murder either man. The other fifty-percent, I want them to fuck me stupid.

Right now, the former is higher on my list since I’m hungry as hell.

When it becomes clear that neither person is going to be revealing any state secrets, I let out that yawn I’ve been holding back and blink my eyes open. I draw back when the first thing in my line of sight is Zander staring blankly at me from a few feet away.

It infuriates me, that burst of energy bubbling under my skin and looking for an outlet.

In a second, I go from idly wondering where I belong and if it’s with these two assholes I’ve been living with, to remembering what Zander did before he locked me in that room a week ago.

Zander realizes I’m awake at the same time I rip the IV out of my arm, jumping up from the couch to rush at him. He stands straight up as I collide with him, and it’s only then that my brain catches up with the fact that there is no way I have any sort of strength to actually do anything but look ridiculous as I flail at him like a pissed off chicken.

But I do it anyway.

“You. Mother. Fucker,” I seethe, lashing out at him with arms that feel like noodles. About three seconds in, my head spins, but that doesn’t stop me from kicking at his shin.

And missing.

“You locked me in a room and forgot about me!” I yell, then immediately pull back, leaning over to brace my hands on my knees. I pant, feeling my limbs vibrate with exhaustion. “Shit,” I mumble. “I’m still fucked up.”

I hear a soft laugh from behind me. “You need to eat something solid.”

I glance at Claire, then look back toward Zander. “Right after this,” I reply, then shoot my hand out directly into Zander’s dick.

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