Page 83 of Cyber Revenge

He steps closer, I can smell his cologne on the faint breeze now, it turns my stomach and brings memories flooding back to the surface. The faint glow from the porch light illuminates the jagged scar across his chest, the brutal reminder of what Trip had done to him.

LIAR

I flinch.

“That hurt, by the way.” Patrick’s fingers brush over the scar like he’s savoring it. “But not as much as knowing you let him do it.”

I shake my head. “I didn’t–”

“You did.” His voice sharpens. “You chose him.”

His eyes burn into me, and for a moment, I see something beneath the rage. Something twisted.

Obsession.

“You always did like the bad ones, didn’t you?” he sneers. “But I guess I wasn’t bad enough.”

I force myself to stand. My legs tremble, but I plant my feet. “Get the fuck out.”

He laughs. A low, hollow sound that makes my stomach twist.

“You think he’s gonna save you?” Patrick’s voice drops to a growl. “Like he did last time?”

My nails bite into my palms. “He will.”

“Oh, baby.” He steps closer. “He’s not even here.”

I try not to react, to keep my face blank. But Patrick sees it. He always sees it.

“He left you,” he whispers, his lips curling. “Just like I said he would.”

“That’s not true.” My voice cracks.

“Isn’t it?”

The blade comes next. Smooth. Silent. Like it has always been there. I don’t see it until it gleams beneath the porch light, the metal kissed by the night.

My stomach drops.

I stumble back, my heart racing, but he follows. step for step.

“You don’t get to be happy,” Patrick says, his eyes dark with something feral. “Not after what you did.”

“I didn’t do–”

“You ruined me.” He cuts me off, his words bitter and angry. The knife twists into the light, catching the faint reflection of the stars above us. I barely have time to react before Patrick lunges.

I scramble back, the patio chair screeching against the concrete as I stumble to my feet. But he’s faster. Always fucking faster.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, baby.” His voice is calm. Too calm. Like he’s enjoying this. Like he’s already won.

I back toward the house, my eyes darting to the sliding glass door. So close. If I can just–

Patrick’s hand shoots out, grabbing my wrist.

“Where are you going?”

The force of it jerks me back, sending me crashing against his chest. I can smell him, sweat, smoke, and something metallic underneath.