Page 130 of His Trick

“Wha—”

“Drive, Veering. Unless, of course, you want to get your precious car dirty.”

He shut up immediately. Bullies always did when the prey they picked grew teeth to bite back. His hands were shaky as he shifted gears, and the car continued to move forward.

“Where the fuck do you want me to go? I swear I’ll have your dick for this, Carrington.”

I leaned in, my hot breath brushing his ear. “You and I have unfinished business, Tyler.”

He flinched and looked around like maybe someone would save him. No one was on these backwoods roads, and even ifthey were, people in small towns were smart. They didn’t involve themselves unless they wanted to be the replacement.

The reception music hadn’t covered his beating outside. His friends had known he was getting his ass handed to him. This was what happened when a socialite fell from grace: the masses buried them and stole the jewels left over.

“Stop your fucking games, and get to it,” he whispered, trying to hold onto that venom. “Or I’ll fuck it out of you.”

Ah, yes, the threats that used to break me. The fear of losing something I held so sacred. What a joke. I never willingly gave myself to anyone.

Except my Sunshine…

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and all that.

“Go ahead, Tyler.” I moaned, reaching his hand and shoving it into my pants, right on my bare cock.

There was no burn, just the heat in knowing some of the blood on his hands was Shiloh’s.

Tyler shrieked like a bitch, cutting his neck with the scissors as he jerked his hand away and swerved on the road to steady us.

“Your sister’s shop,” I said with a chuckle, and when he looked confused, I rolled my eyes. “Why am I not surprised you’d let that girl die, never knowing anything but the sound of her misery?”

He growled. “You got your fucking sister, and I got mine, asshole.”

“No, Tyler,” I said, punching in the address to the salon in his car’s GPS with my free hand. “Your sister is fucking dead.”

When we arrivedat the shop, it was dark. The sun was setting and disappearing behind the flat ass land on the horizon.

“Walk,” I told him, grabbing him by the scruff of his hair and dragging him out of the passenger side.

“What the fuck you want from me, freak?”

His bulky, stupid body didn’t move, and my patience was growing thin. Normally, I was more methodical, but having my very own bully in my gloved grip made me antsy.

“Now.”

He still didn’t move, so I kicked the back of his knee just right, and the snap had his body flying forward with a scream.

Shit, someone could have heard that. Move Harding.

I all but dragged him across the dirt path toward the salon, making my way to the back, where I kept a spare key to her lair. He got to his feet, trying to prove something, as he stumbled more than once.

Every time he did, that old familiar rage twisted in my chest with the raw heat it brought.

The same rage that used to burn when he cornered me in the showers.

All his fucking friends were taking turns kicking me, laughing at my body, and the never-ending blood making me dizzy until I prayed I would just die.

His cries now reminded me of my sister every time she called our parents, telling them she couldn’t make it to holiday parties because she was “sick.”

She was sixteen when he got his hands on her.