Page 172 of House of Cards

Troy turns to her, hands raised. “Calm down, Zoey. Come inside so we can explain.”

“I’m not going anywhere with either of you,” she says, still backing away. She turns to run again, but Troy is faster. He catches her around the waist, lifting her off her feet as she screams and thrashes.

That’s what I should have done.

Not tackle her, pin her, choke her.

“Letgo!”

I stand, dusting my clothes, tugging them straight. Thank God I put in my contacts, because I’m pretty sure my glasses would have been ruined by now.

Troy throws me a glance over his shoulder, and I’m sure the frustration on his face is equal parts Zoey and me.

“Put her in one of the guest bedrooms for now,” I tell him, wiping blood from my cheek with the back of my hand.

“You can’t do this!” Zoey shrieks, still struggling in Troy’s grip. “This is kidnapping! This is?—”

“This is keeping you alive, Zoey!” I cut in, my voice so loud it’s almost a shout.

She stops fighting Troy, but the look she sends my way is pure fucking venom.

“I hate you,” she whispers, tears wobbling in her eyes before racing down her blotchy cheeks. “I hate you so fucking much.”

“I know, kitten,” I murmur.

She hangs from Troy’s arms like I had him pick up my dry cleaning. Her sobs reach me as they get to the entrance. Wild, forlorn sobs that sting more than the claw marks on my cheek.

I stand alone in the driveway, dabbing the already tacky blood on my skin, savoring the tingle of pain.

Copper coats my tongue when I lick my fingertips.

How quickly sweetness turns to violence.

I can still taste her from that kiss at the diner. Still feel the way she melted against me, the soft sound she made when I pulled her closer.

And Christ, the way she looked at me. Like I was the God who hung the fucking moon, instead of the monster who ate the stars.

I felt it too.

That insidious flutter in my chest, the way my walls started crumbling the moment her lips touched mine. For one perfect, terrifying moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like to love her.

What it would be like to have her love me back.

Then I found Elonzo’s note, and reality came crashing down.

Love makes people stupid, reckless, vulnerable.

Love would have gotten her killed tonight.

Elonzo would have given her a choice, except it wouldn’t have been a choice at all. I saved her from that, and instead of thanking me, she looked at me like I was the Devil himself.

Something tells me, no matter how much I try to explain it to her, she won’t understand. That she’ll always hate me for this.

And I’m okay with that.

I can handle her hatred.

What I can’t handle is the alternative—that look in her eyes that promised everything in the world I’ve ever wanted…and more.