Page 31

THIRTY-ONE

PATRICK

P ain.

That’s all I know now.

It doesn’t stop. It doesn’t ease. It’s constant . A never-ending fucking reminder of what he’d done to me.

I can feel it–burning, searing, clawing at my flesh with every fucking heartbeat. The pain is embedded in my skin, etched into me with ink and cruelty, and no matter how much time passes… It’s still there.

LIAR.

The word echoes in my mind like a goddamn curse. Trip had made sure of that. He didn’t just carve it into my skin. He fucking branded me.

And now… I’m trying to erase it.

The tattoo removal process is hell . Every session is worse than the last.

The laser cuts through my skin like fire, blistering and burning, trying to break down the ink that was forced into me. But it’s slow. Too fucking slow.

Weeks of agony. Weeks of sitting in that chair while the technician zapped layer after layer of my skin, trying to undo what Trip had done.

But the scars won’t go away.

They never will.

The ink is fading, slowly, but the damage is permanent. And every time I look in the mirror, I see it. His mark. I see his fucking name in that scar, like he’d written it himself.

TRIP.

My teeth clench, my jaw tightening until it aches. I hate him. I fucking hate him. But no matter how much I hate him, I can’t stop thinking about him.

Trip has taken everything from me.

Lydia. My reputation. My fucking sanity.

He didn’t just beat me. He humiliated me. Reduced me to nothing. And now, I can’t think about anything else. My world had shrunk to them.

Trip and Lydia.

I see them everywhere. Even when I’m not looking. Every fucking time I close my eyes, I see them.

I see Trip’s hands on her body.

I see the way she looks at him–like he’s her fucking god .

I see the way she melts under his touch, the way she gives herself to him completely without hesitation. And I hate it. I hate the way she surrenders to him. I hate the way she worships him.

But more than that…

I hate that I can’t stop watching. I’ve been watching them for weeks. Trip thinks he’s so fucking smart. He thinks he’s untouchable. But he isn’t.

I know where they live. I know their routines. I know everything. And they don’t even realize I’m watching.

Always watching.

I hacked into her cameras weeks ago. She thinks she’s safe. She thinks Trip is protecting her.

But he doesn’t see me . I’m invisible now. A shadow lurking just out of reach. And I see everything. Every fucking night, I watch them.

I watch Trip walk around her house like he fucking owns it.

I watch Lydia curl up against him, her body fitting so perfectly against his like she is made for him.

I watch them fuck.

Over. And over. And over.

I see every inch of her. Every mark he leaves. Every bruise. Every fucking scar. And I hate how much it turns me on. I tried to stop watching. I tried to turn off the cameras. But I can’t. I can’t stop.

Every time I see them together, the rage builds higher. The obsession burns hotter. They are all I think about now. All I care about.

I don’t even think about that streamer bitch anymore. The one I left Lydia for. What was her name?

Fuck.

It doesn’t matter. I barely remember her face. She was just a distraction. A means to an end. A warm body to fuck when I couldn’t have Lydia. I used her to hurt Lydia, to make her jealous . But after I lost her… after Trip fucking took her from me…

She didn’t matter anymore.

She’s gone.

Forgotten.

The minute Lydia was out of my life, the other girl didn’t even exist. I didn’t give a shit about her. Because I only cared about Lydia.

And Trip.

They consume me. The way he touches her. The way she moans for him. The way he looks at her like she’s his whole fucking world.

My fingers clench around the edge of the desk, the cool surface digging into my skin as I stare at the screen.

They’re in the living room again.

Trip is stretched out on the couch, his arm draped lazily over her shoulders. Lydia curls against him, her head resting on his chest, her fingers tracing over the tattoos on his arms like she’s memorizing them.

Her eyes are soft.

So fucking soft.

Like she’s completely at peace.

Completely his .

My jaw clenches so tight I think my teeth might crack.

That should be me. It was supposed to be me. I should be the one she looks at like that. I should be the one she trusts.

Not Trip.

Not him.

I can’t stop staring.

My blood is boiling, my vision blurring with rage as I watch his hand slide down her back, his fingers brushing over the curve of her ass.

She shifts against him, her body pressing closer. Fucking perfect . So goddamn perfect. And she’s giving it all to him.

I want to tear the fucking screen apart. I want to rip him away from her. I want to make her scream my name instead of his.

But instead, I just watch. Like I always fucking do.

Trip has taken everything from me. However, I won’t let him keep it. I’m not going to sit back and watch anymore.

Not for much longer. I can feel it building inside me, clawing at my insides like a fucking animal.

The need to destroy him. To take back what’s mine. And when I finally make my move…

Trip won’t see it coming.