He spits into the dirt beside him. “What—”
“Shut up,” I hiss. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to tell me—in excruciating detail—what you planned to do to Violet Reece.”
He stares at me for a moment. I wonder what she ever saw in him, because all I see is poison.
“And if I don’t?”
I let him see how devoid of emotion I truly am. It’s easy to let the veil drop sometimes. I let out my demons around Violet—in the gym, in the woods—and on the ice, occasionally. When we’re hard-pressed for a win and there’s no other options. Becoming something people fear just adds another layer to my personality.
Two parts charm, one part insanity.
And a powerful family name to boot.
I give him a smile. The sort that feels crazy—and must look it, by the way his eyes widen. “If you don’t, I’ll break your fucking legs and make sure you never touch a football again.”
He falls backward. “You wouldn’t. You—”
“I what?” I grip his throat and yank him toward me, until we’re eye to eye. “I’m the worst monster you’ve ever come across, asshole.” I toss my phone to Knox. “Film it.”
I release Jack and step back, leaving him lying on the ground. He swallows and pushes himself up. The flashlight comes on, illuminating his face, and he gulps again. His eyes dance around, like he’s trying to come up with a good enough lie.
A good enough excuse.
But here’s the thing: there is no such thing.
He wanted to take what’s mine. He wanted to hurt her in the worst way he could think of. He wanted to steal and take and destroy her. But she has a meaner, scarier, crazier stalker.
Me.
And I’ll protect her with every breath in my body.
“I went to her apartment after I saw the press release.” His eyes lose focus, like he’s remembering. Or fabricating.
I glance over at Knox, whose brows are drawn together.
“I have a prescription to help me sleep. I brought some with me and crushed them up to put in her drink. It took a little while for it to hit her. I didn’t even have to force her to her bedroom—she walked there on her own two feet.” He looks up at me, his eyes dry. Not a speck of remorse. “I was going to fuck her, and I was going to video it and send it to you.”
Me.
I narrow my eyes and gesture for him to keep talking.
He does. “I’ve been dating Violet forever. She’s been by my side for the past three years.”
I make a face. “Technically, she broke up with you six months ago.”
“And then you come crashing into her life,” he continues as if I hadn’t interrupted, “and suddenly she wants nothing to do with me.” He kicks at the dirt, inching himself backward. “I fucking hate her for that. It’s a betrayal. She just left me? No.”
I tilt my head. “You wanted to win her back?”
He laughs. “I fucking tried to mess with her head like you do. Especially after that video of her blowing me was posted. But instead of reacting like she does to you, she just… was done with me.”
My lips twist. Of course she was just done with him. She was done with him months ago, it sounds like. He just wasn’t ready to face the music.
“You messed with her how?”
Jack’s expression turns pained. “Come on, man.”
“Did you know she was too drunk to remember when you stuck your dick in her mouth outside Haven?” I clench my fists, then force myself to release them.
He just laughs. “And you bet I saw you filming it, jackass.”
I motion to Knox to cut the video. The light dies, shrouding Jack in darkness again. Knox tosses my phone back to me. I watch it through, listening carefully to make sure we get all of his words, and cut off the last part where he mentions my involvement. It’s irrelevant, anyway.
“Wait here,” I say to Knox.
He inclines his chin.
I stride back to my truck. What I want to do and what I have to do are two very different things. I want to tie him to the cinder blocks in the bed of my truck and shove him over the side of the cliff.
I can’t do that. Murder is a bit too far, even for me.
Instead, I find the crowbar in my backseat and heft it in my hand. When I return, Jack is pleading with Knox. He’s crawled forward again, farther away from the drop-off, and he stares up at Knox like my friend will save him.
He won’t.
“This is strictly business,” I inform Jack.
His attention switches to me, but it’s too late to stop me. Or to get away. I’m set on my mission, the fury under my blood hot and demanding revenge.
I raise the crowbar. The weight is solid in my hand, my grip sure. I swing it up over my head. I relish the expression of horror that crosses his face. And the acknowledgement that he can’t stop me. For a perfect moment, we’re all frozen. And then I slam it down on his knee.
36
VIOLET
I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. I rub my eyes and manage to roll out of bed. My mouth has a sour taste, and I brush my teeth twice to get rid of it. My head pounds. A quick glance at my phone tells me it’s midmorning. Later than I would’ve normally slept… and it’s Tuesday. I’m missing classes.
“Shit,” I mutter.
I get halfway dressed before I realize that making it to campus isn’t going to happen. I stumble out into the living area and glance around. It’s neat and organized, like…
Wait.
What happened last night?
I stand in front of the couch and stare down at it, confusion hindering my thought process. There was the press release on the athletic blog, the football player in the library, Jack waiting for me on my front step.
And then… nothing.
Like my memories have corroded. There’s nothing left except that taste in my mouth. I don’t remember putting myself to bed or what Jack wanted…
Panic surges up my throat. I put my hand over my chest and try to breathe, but getting air in seems to be the problem.
The front door opens, and Willow strides inside. Her voice, calling my name, seems to come from a long way off.
Something crashes, and then she’s right in my face. She lowers me to the floor and kneels next to me. She puts my hand on her chest, miming deep breaths.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to match her. The rise and fall, everything slowing down. There’s still panic riding through me, but after a few tries, I manage to catch my breath. I inhale and exhale until my heart rate slows, too.
“You with me?”
I open my eyes. “Sorry,” I croak.
Her concern bleeds through her expression. “What happened?”
I frown. “I don’t know.”
She frowns, too, and sits beside me. We lean against the wall.
“Walk me through it?”
That’s the problem. I don’t know what happened, and I can’t seem to articulate it. So instead, I ask, “What time did you get home?”
“Eleven. Coach had us learning new choreography, and it was taking forever to get to a stopping point.” She tuts. “You were asleep by then, though. Did you order out?”
I roll my head toward her. “Did I order out?”
“Yeah.” She nudges my shoulder with hers. “There are takeout boxes in the trash. Beer, too. What happened?”