Page 17 of Wreaking Havoc on my Heart

Laney: Headed to training. Call you when we’re done.

Training? She mentioned she might work out more there to build her endurance, but I didn’t know this was an actual training regimen in place.

Arrow: Who’s training you? Are they as good as I am?

I try to tell myself not to be jealous, but when I see his name pop up, my anger gets the best of me.

Laney: Havoc. Gotta turn off my phone to stay focused. Teacher’s rules.

My impulse control and anger issues tunnel my vision. Before I know it, I’m launching my phone across the room, causing it to shatter on all sides.Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to make both sides of the phone glass?

Whatever. I’ll get a new one when I wake up. One that’s made from a company that knows how to actually make a decent phone.

Moving to the bar, I grab the whisky and pour a double, trying to calm my racing thoughts. I need to get this side of me under control. I can’t just lash out every time things piss me off.

Guess anger issues run pretty deep in the family.I tip the glass back, downing the drink in a single gulp before pouring another. I’m aware I can’t drown my issues in alcohol and hope that I wake up with them solved.

But this is all I have right now. So, I pour myself a third glass. The burn makes me wince and I find that as I try to move to the couch, I have a slight sway in my step.

I didn’t eat much today, so that must be why it’s hitting me so hard. That, or the fact that I haven’t had much to drink at all since spending time with Laney. Shaking my head, I toss the amber liquid back and decide this will be my last one.

Maybe a movie will help me keep my mind off things. Suspense usually calls to me, but right now I want validation in my anger, so I turn on Rocky. Nothing gets the frustration out like watching a man knock his opponent to the ground.

By the end of the movie, I can hardly keep my eyes open, but I’ve decided that I’ll text Boris tomorrow. He has until my girl comes home to tell her the truth. After that, I’m doing it. No matter how much this Havoc guy worms his way into her life, I will prove I’m the better fit. I’mthe onlyfit.

His bright green eyes, muscles, and constant snark will never be able to diminish the care and love I can bring her. And that’s what she deserves. I’ve never wanted to protect someone like I do her. Laney’s as fierce as a tiger, yet carries the gentleness of an angel.

I know she has claws and can protect herself, but if it were up to me, I’d make sure she never has to.

Chapter 7

It’s almost Christmas, and as I sit on my bed I reflect on all of the things that have changed since we arrived. We came here to hatch an escape plan and are leaving with a revenge plot. I saw Evie torture a man. Not like you see in the movies, like a legitimate full-on blood spraying across the floor torture parade.

I’ve never seen so much gore before. My father may not have cared much about me using my body to get him ahead but he kept me far from the bloody side. I sigh, thankful Lev is planning something because I need a good distraction. I will spend the evening getting out of my head and putting on that fake smile—until even I believe it.

I send Havoc a text, inviting him to movie night. I might have gotten upset with him after the whole torture thing with Evie, but I still want him to feel included. He’s gone out of his way to help me feel stronger and more prepared, the least I can do is offer an olive branch.

Less than five minutes later, there’s a knock at my door. I open it to find a bag waiting there with no one in sight. I’m hesitant to open it until I get a whiff of his scent.

I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s like a sweet strength, lighting my veins up with renewed life. I grab the bag and bring it to my bed, wondering what he could have left me.

For my unicorn,

A little something for you to hold onto when we

have to bathe in the blood of our enemies.

-Your humble torturer

I laugh as I pull out a very large stuffed unicorn. Somehow, it smells just like him. I hold it close and breathe him in, allowing his scent to envelop me. It’s a heady aroma of rum and spice, something sweet with a kick, reminding me perfectly of him. This man, born of chaos, is doing things to my heart.

I text him to come to my room, needing to thank him for this, but also wanting to get to know him more while also showing him more about me. A minute later, he walks in as if he were just waiting for my permission.

“Do you like it?” he asks sheepishly.

I grin as I tug it close to my body.

“I love it. His name is Francis.”

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