Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Punk: I can fix what I can… but that…
Punk…
Leon: You good? We’ll be there soon.
I’m fine.
And that may just be the biggest lie I’ve ever said, because I’m pretty sure the word I’m looking for right now is homicidal.
Swinging the door open, I shoulder my way inside, a loose strand of hair catching on my lip. I blow it aside, temper burning hot under my skin.
He bought my house. My fucking house.
I’m halfway across the kitchen when voices drift in from the foyer. Devon’s easy laugh reaches me first, followed by a deeper voice I already hate.
Him.
I stop in the doorway.
Devon has his back to me, one hand held out in greeting as if we’re hosting a goddamn dinner party. He has no idea what he’s invited into our home.
My home.
His home now, apparently.
Asher stands in the entrance, snow dusting the shoulders of his black coat. Camille hovers at his elbow, her fingers curled around his bicep like she’s afraid he’ll float away.
One month.
Thirty-one days since he told me I was a mistake. Since I left his house and swore I’d never fucking look at him again.
He looks good. Shit. I hate that he looks good. His jaw cuts sharper now, his neck and shoulders thicker under the coat. I know every one of his tattoos, and they shift across his skin as he turns.
His eyes find me, re-igniting a flame I’m not so sure ever burned out.
Devon follows his line of sight. “Babe, you didn’t tell me new friends were coming?”
“Pretty sure I did,” I say through clenched teeth. “But these aren’t friends.”
My eyes snap to Asher. “What are you doing here? Why did you buy my fucking house?”
Asher unzips his jacket. “Missed you too, Venom, and I didn’t buy it. I put a bid on it. Like I was gonna let you sell our fucking house.”
Our fucking house.
I wince, folding my arms in front of myself. Really bad habit. I need to stop showing my insecurities so easily.
My hands drop.
“Ah…” Devon’s head swings between us, confused. “What is going on here?”
Camille shrugs. “These two are… hmmm… what should I call it? Ex lovers? Ex married?”
“You’ll be ex-fucking-iled if you don’t get the fuck out of my house, Camille.” I flash a smile at her, teeth bared. “I will shoot you this time.”
“Aww,” Camille pats my shoulder and every tendon in my arm locks tight. “Ash is right. You are so cute when you go all—” her hands wave. “—Assassin mode.”
I still, eyes flying to Asher who’s already glaring at Camille. I didn’t even realize I’d grabbed my gun until I feel the weight in my hand.
My brows lift. “Give me two reasons why I’m not burying a bullet in her skull, Ash…”
Asher finally drags his attention off her and onto me. “You already know one.”
I lower the gun with a soft growl. I need to get away. It’s been less than two minutes and I’m ready to risk my entire life just see the inside of Camille’s skull.
The front door opens again. Who the fuc—“Khloe?”
A smile splits across my face when the familiar tall replica of the asshole in the living room steps through.
“Oh my God I’m so sorry I’m early, but, wait!” she points suspiciously. “That better not be Camel-toe’s car in the driveway, she’s the only bitch I know who would have a legit pink plate in—“
My lips curl to stop my laugh as Khloe pauses near the living room, obviously noticing that her assessments were right.
She turns back to me with a fake smile. “Couldn’t even give a bitch a heads up? Just let me walk right into that one, huh?”
Her focus shifts to her brother and his—whatever—widening her arms out to them. “Hello, dearly beloved. Camille, wipe the frown off your face. It’s no secret I hate you. Also, I’m so glad you found yourselves here, but I should warn you…”
“Khloe?” Asher stares at his baby sister. “Shut the fuck up.”
Khloe fixes her face, flipping him off. “Fuck you.”
Asher ignores her, side-eying my cooking as he moves through the kitchen. Bastard.
Camille slides onto the barstool beside him, her manicured nails drumming against the marble countertop. She says something under her breath that only Asher can hear, drowning my vision blood fucking red.
In the distance somewhere, Devon laughs at something Khloe says, oblivious to what just walked through the door.
My finger twitches against the trigger.
I’m not doing this again. The spiral. The games. Watching him with her while I pretend I don’t internally crash out every time he touches her. Playing house in a marriage that was never real to begin with.
Our fucking house.
The words loop and loop until they turn to static.
My arm lifts as Camille turns toward me with that smug fucking smile.
I pull the trigger, popping her right in the shoulder.
Blood sprays across the backsplash I scrubbed clean last week, before she hits the ground with a howl that would make me laugh if I wasn’t so fucking furious.