Page 2

Skylar

This fucking cunt.

I can’t do much but watch as she peels out of the driveway, taking half my fucking car with her. I tried to warn her—if she wants to fuck around, she’s going to quickly learn what going toe to toe with me actually looks like.

Let’s see if Daddy has any contributions to make towards his daughter’s destruction.

I find our parents lounging in the den, watching some childish reality show on TV. It’s one of those bullshit popularity contests Netflix hosts, where they reward whoever proves to be the most chronically online.

“Hey, Gene.” I walk up and plaster on a convincing smile, praying they didn’t overhear our discernible spat at dinner. “Scarlett dropped her phone in the driveway, so I figured I could swing by her place and return it on my way home. Do you have her address on hand?”

“Oh shoot!” With a soft chortle, he waddles over to the foyer table and pulls a notebook from one of the drawers. “I tell you, that girl would lose her head if it wasn’t attached to her shoulders.” After scribbling down the address onto a Post-it, he hands it to me.

Bingo .

“Thank you, I’ll be sure to tell her to be more careful,” I say.

It’s laughable, really. I won’t be using this piece of paper to do anything good, but I think I’ll hold onto it for a while—the opportune moment will present itself soon enough.

She has no idea what I have in store for her.

Eugene laughs again, giving me a brief nod before rejoining my mother in the den. I follow behind him to give her a proper kiss goodbye, with lots of promises to come back soon.

I let myself out and hop into my car, avoiding the atrocities I’m sure to find when I check the exterior more thoroughly tomorrow. I’ll take blissful ignorance, thanks. Leaning back against the headrest, I close my eyes and try to calm my fucking nerves.

That bitch is lucky I didn’t rip her goddamn hair out. If it weren’t for my poor mother, Baker Drive may have made it to national news for the massacre of the century.

“Man brutally slays his stepsister in the driveway of their parents’ house after a heated altercation.”

It has a ring to it.

Also, what was with all the bullshit dramatics in blasting the soundtrack to my Audi’s death? I need to get that fucking song out of my head before I blow a gasket.

I open Spotify and blast “Granite” by Sleep Token at full volume as I take off. The bass reverberates through my whole body, eliciting the tranquil sensation I’ve been aching for.

Fuck , I’ve needed this. I love my mom, but spending a whole evening with her dopey husband is more than I can handle.

I do my best to space out, tapping on the steering wheel to the beat of the song, but something from earlier keeps popping into my head .

“I just got confirmation that we’re allowed to go ahead with the food orders for the local church.”

What are the chances of a church charity drive sending out messages this late on a Sunday night? I give my wrist a small shake, checking the watch face for the timestamp on my notification from Eden. Eight o'clock—the same time Scarlett pulled her phone out and gave her little speech.

Could it be a coincidence?

Possibly .

Is that likely?

Not in this lifetime .

Scarlett just received her golden ticket, and judging by her reaction, I’ll bet it’s her first time. There’s no way I wouldn’t have noticed her at the club, had she been there before.

At the next stoplight, I lower the convertible roof and untie the bun at the back of my head. The wind immediately whips my freed hair around when I accelerate. The cool sensation is a relief—I’ve been suffocating since I laid eyes on her in the driveway, and my skin feels hot and itchy.

I pull up Julian’s contact information on the screen and tap the ‘call’ button. The dial tone rings three times before he answers, “Hey man, what’s up? How’s your mom?”

Julian’s had this fascination with my mother since high school, and he makes sure I know it. Intimately .

“Don’t talk about my mom, fuckface,” I mumble. “I’m on my way home, just wanted to give you the heads up. Also, I’ve got a job for you.”

“I hope you gave her a big, sloppy kiss for me.” A barrage of smooching sounds ring through the surround sound before he continues. “What do you need?”

“Do you know who gave Penelope Whitlock the invite to Eden?” I ask. “I need you to find out when she’s going next. I think Daddy’s darling just got her acceptance letter, and I doubt she would go without Penelope. ”

I flinch at the sudden, boisterous laugh echoing in my ears. “No fucking way Red got in. Has she even had sex before? She’ll get eaten alive.”

But that’s exactly what I’m hoping for.

She was fucking delicious tonight. Her crimson hair was as vibrant as I remembered, and it felt so soft wrapped around my fist. I almost lost my shit when she bit me, just watching the way her plump, red, fuckable lips pursed around my finger. And fuck …her juicy ass and double-wide hips almost gave me a goddamn heart attack when she slid up against my leg in the doorway.

I want to eat Scarlett alive.

I want to see her crumble. I want to watch a waterfall of tears pool in her eyes when I force her open on my cock. I want to know if her pussy tastes as sweet as that tear did.

“I’m almost positive she got the email. She had this wild reaction at the same time I got my own,” I explain. “Can you get the intel, or not?” I’m trying not to sound as frustrated as I feel, but this raging hard-on straining against my zipper won’t get on the same page.

“Have you met me, brother? I’m Julian Finch.” Cocky motherfucker. “Getting what I want is like stealing candy from a baby. I’ll have it for you by the time you get home.”

Considering I’m only a few minutes out, I’m cynical, but I’ve never been one to discourage Julian from a challenge. “See you in ten,” I say before hanging up.

“Red Flags” by Stellar picks up where the last song left off, killing all hope I had of getting Scarlett off my mind. As I listen to the lyrics, she’s all I see—shining like a flame with that red glow I crave so much.

It’s crazy to think you can want to kill and fuck someone with equal measure, but that’s exactly how I feel. The question is: would I fuck her first and then kill her? Eh, that might ruin my afterglow. Maybe I could kill her and then fuck her, but that would make me a necrophiliac. Not really into that, either.

This girl makes torture feel like a hobby .

It’s just so easy when everything I do provokes a reaction. The more she fights, the harder I dig in. I have to wonder what it would look like to deliver a healthy amount of pain and punishment while I’m buried inside of her. I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance…

Until now.

There’s no time to dwell on it. I approach our house and park beside Julian’s Mustang, keeping my eyes averted from my bumper when I walk inside. If I even think about what happened tonight while my blood’s pumping like this, I know I’ll end up using that Post-it to go strangle her in her sleep.

Julian’s standing in the living room when I enter, phone to his ear. He points an aggressive finger in my direction as he starts wrapping up the call.

“Of course, darling, you’ve been a huge help. More than you know, really. Hope to see you soon,” he croons, then hangs up before whoever’s on the other line can respond.

“So?”

The corners of his mouth tighten into a wide, menacing smile that shows off his flawless teeth. “Saturday night.”