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“Why the fuck would they forgive you?”

The intrusion jars me from my thoughts. I whip my head around in the direction of the voice and see Candace standing by the lockers closest to the door.

Massaging the bridge of my nose, I mentally prepare for whatever onslaught she’s preparing to levy.

“Can we not do this right now?” I plead, knowing it’ll be in vain.

Tilting her head, Candace steps into the locker room and blocks my path. “When does one discuss how you murdered someone? Should we wait for an audience?” she quips, curling her lips into a sardonic smile. “That didn’t work out so well for you the last few times, if I remember correctly.”

“You really need to find something better to do with your time,” I hiss with false bravado.

I’m tired of people trying to use my moments of weakness against me, like there’s something inherently wrong with grieving… like the notion that I feel remorse is deemed a flaw.

Candace crosses her arms under her chest. “This is a perfect use of my time. I’m calling out a traitor-ass bitch that refuses to own up to what your brother did,” she snarls.

Recognizing this isn’t going to end well. I turn to walk to the other exit when I hear the same recording that Portia played that day in the food court.

I freeze mid-step, listening to my anguished cries. But whereas last time I was crippled by grief, today I’m fueled by anger.

Whirling around, I snap, “I don’t have time for your shit, Candace.”

“Well, I do,” she retorts, and the control on my patience is at its end.

Inhaling, I try to leash my rage. “You should leave,” I command. “Before I forget to spare your feelings.”

“Ohhh, I’m sooo scared of the big bad Eva,” she taunts. “What are you going to do—cry me into compliance?”

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere mourning your friend?” I snap, shocking myself.

The surprise I see on her face when I peer at her also confirms that we both weren’t expecting my outburst.

Candace’s face blooms redder than a tomato, and an apology is on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it down. She doesn’t deserve one. Who the fuck uses someone’s grief to hurt them?

A monster.

“You fucking bitch,” she shrieks, charging me, and I drop my bag where I stand, preparing to swing, but she trips over her own feet. Her face hits the bench before her body smacks onto the floor.

I burst into laughter as I approach her, placing my foot on her head when she tries to stand. Bending, I notice her blood splattered across the tile.

“Looks like that’s two for karma and none for you bitches,” I snark, pushing her back down when she tries to stand. Then, I step over her with a Cheshire Cat grin and exit the locker room.

23

cooper

I duckinto the corner when the locker room door slaps against the wall and smile as I watch Eva stroll by.

A sense of pride forms in my chest in the way she handled Candace. It doesn’t matter that we sent her. She obviously doesn’t remember the rage Colter and I had when her dearly departed friend, Portia, went to eat dirt pie and become worm food.

Portia’s death was well deserved. However, I’m still bummed we didn’t get to hunt her heartless ass down.

Am I being a hypocrite?Yes.

Do I care?Absolutely the fuck not.This is a do as I say, not as I do predicament. Meaning Portia and her gaggle of bitches need to follow instructions instead of going off halfcocked.

The door to the locker room opens again, and I wait for my target to pass. Candace limps by, and I grab her shirt, yanking her into my chest. Then I wrap my arms around her waist and hoist her into the air.

Flailing, she begins to fight.We can’t have that.