Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 163089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
But then they told me something.
Something that made me leave Violet’s apartment in the middle of the night after everyone fell asleep. I had Hayes drive me to the house I never thought I’d ever go back to again.
Here’s the thing—I thought Kane and Jude killed Granny, but that’s not true.
It was Marcus.
He killed her to avenge me.
He murdered someone in cold blood for me—like he said he would.
And he didn’t only kill her, but also the hit man who shot me and a few other guys who helped.
Marcus killed for the first time.
For me.
Also, according to Kane, Marcus was there during the shooting and at the hospital when they announced my “death.” I didn’t hallucinate it.
Marcus did hold me in his arms as I was fighting whether or not to surrender to my demons.
That means I have a tiny chance, right? I mean, he better take me.
Hopefully.
I’ll beg if I have to.
Almost dying has given me a different perspective—all the time I was hiding and running should’ve been spent doing what I love.
Namely, hugging and kissing and touching Marcus.
I should’ve just been with him as much as possible when I could, when that’s what I always wanted to do. It’s probably been going on longer than before we started our little arrangement.
Maybe since the rivalry began?
Since college?
I’m not sure when, exactly, but that sensation of being drawn to him, annoyed by him, and feeling threatened by him wasn’t only rivalry.
For a long time, I couldn’t explain the sensation of being around him or the pull I felt toward him, but now, I can.
I think I had a crush on Marcus.
It started during our first college game, I think. By the end of it, he crashed me to the ice, and his heavy body was all over me as he reached a hand toward me.
He had this dark, hooded look in his eyes, and I remember panicking like crazy.
He’s going to eat me alive, I thought.
And I couldn’t move. All I could do was watch, waiting with bated breath, my heart on the verge of beating out of my chest.
All the sounds around us disappeared as his eyes metaphorically pulled my skin open and toyed with my deplorable insides—
But then, Jude dragged him away from me before he could touch me, and my brain, being my brain, decided we’d completely forget about that moment.
Panic? We don’t do that. That’s why I made myself think it was because I hated him.
But in reality, I’ve been into him for a long time. I just refused to face it or even entertain it.
Now, I finally can.
“Are you going in?” Hayes asks from the driver’s seat as I stare at my reflection in the mirror, willing my hair to behave.
“What if he’s not there?”
“There’s a light on in the house, and I already confirmed he came home after practice. You can go anytime now.”
“Shut up, let me practice what I’m going to say.”
“You already did for the past hour, and none of it sounded natural, by the way.”
“Ugh! Okay, let me think about better options.”
“I don’t believe thinking does you any good.”
“Rude.” I slide my hair to the side. “How do I look?”
“Not dead, which is what’s important.”
“You done being me, Hayes?” I scoff, then swallow. “Here’s to nothing.”
“Good luck.”
After I get out, I place my hand on the top of the car and lean down to speak to him through the window. “If Marcus rejects me, your life will be hell, and we’ll be camping out here until he forgives me.”
“Oh God.”
“That’s right, you better start praying.”
My smile disappears as I walk to the black door, my heart in my throat. Right. It’ll be okay.
I hope.
With a deep breath, I hit the bell.
I can hear it inside, the sound long and loud. Was it always this loud?
My gaze strays to my surroundings, looking for what, I don’t know. Hayes, the traitor, has already left, and I’m all alone.
Maybe Marcus isn’t here. Sucking the corner of my mouth between my teeth, I pull on the bottom of my jacket, touch my hair, and then stop.
I’m nervous. Fuck. Me? Nervous?
Someone check to see if Julian performed a personality transplant while he was waking me up from the coma.
Wouldn’t put it past that freak to Frankenstein me into oblivion—
The door opens, and I freeze, all the words I practiced to an unimpressed Hayes earlier sort of flying out the window.
I know it’s been three weeks since I unofficially died, but it feels like yesterday when I last saw him holding me as blood bubbled out of my mouth.
Right now, however, he’s different.
Way different.
Gray sweatpants hang low on his hips, his naked chest looks the same with the bulging muscles and the draping chain, but his shoulders are hunched, his face is sunken. The brightness in his metallic eyes is gone, and all that exists are two pools of empty gray.