Page 157 of The Ruthless Note

Anything.

But I can only stand here outside The King’s practice room—half of me out for blood and the other half… I don’t know what that part of me is hoping for.

A crowd forms in the hallway.

I know I'm making a spectacle of myself, but I don't even care. My arms are jittery with anger. I’m trembling in shock. My body is strained, like someone's pulling it tight. Tighter still.

I hear angry chords in my head.

E# G Bb

Fueling me on.

Righteous indignation.

It burns every inch of me.

I will not let Dutch ruin someone's life again. I will not let him takeanythingelse from the people that I care about.

I keep banging on the door until Dutch finally opens.

The moment I see him, my muscles tense. Like me, Dutch’s clothes are covered in soot, but his face is clean, frighteningly handsome.

He’s the picture of cold, ruthless elegance with his blond hair, amber eyes and inked arms. His biceps roll when he folds his hands over his chest. I know those muscles are built from hours of playing guitar and training to maintain his stamina during concerts.

In this moment, he doesn’t look like a high school student. Not with the darkness passing over his face or the shadows living under his soulless eyes.

He looks like a nightmare.

Something deep inside, the part of me that wanted to believe there was good in him, starts to ache.

“You have a death wish?” Dutch asks with an expressionless look.

When he watches me with those eyes of pure golden nonchalance, I feel the scales tipping further into blind rage. After all the ways he’s harassed and tormented me, he really doesn't care, does he? Everyone is a pawn in his game. A throwaway.

I can't believe I ever saw him as something redeemable.

I can't believe I was starting to waver.

I genuinely thought he rescued me from the fire this morning. That maybe, deep down, he really cared about something other than himself.

But I was wrong.

I was wrong to be fooled.

I was wrong to believe that he could be anything better.

My eyes burning, I step right up to him and tilt my head back. For a moment, I see a flicker a frustration pass through his gaze.

But he doesn't move.

“Did you do this?” I hiss.

His jaw clenches.

Again, he says nothing.

I push him. “Did you?”