Page 176 of Ruthless Chaos

He’s maybe seen my phone on the bed.

His footsteps rush toward the bathroom.

“Alize?” He calls again, this time his voice filled with worry. “Alize, sweetheart, are you inside the bathroom?”

Sweetheart. It doesn’t give me butterflies anymore, only makes me want to puke.

He probably called Cassidy the same thing.

He wrestles with the doorknob and grunts in exasperation when it won’t budge.

“Alize, I know you’re in there. Open the door,” he says.

I don’t respond. He shakes the doorknob again, this time so hard I can see it jiggling from the inside.

“Just say something, so I know you’re okay.”

I’m not fucking okay.

I don’t think I have ever been since I stepped foot into the abyss that is Saint Frederic University. I want him to suffer, if even for a few moments.

He should know what it feels like to lose something.

He wrestles with the door until he finally starts talking again.

“Okay, Alize.” I wince, wishing he didn’t know my real name. I should have never shared that part of myself with him. “I’m opening this door, so if you’re standing behind it, get out of the way.”

His footsteps retreat from the door, and I wonder if he’s gone down to the front desk to ask them for the master key. I don’t have to speculate for long. He returns quickly and starts banging something against the door.

I can’t tell what it is from the sound, but it’s heavy.

The doorknob splits from the door, and Alexander kicks the door open. He rushes inside, his face twisted with unease. It’s laughable. Maybe he is insane, because he seems to have started to believe his own delusion.

There’s a golden gun in his hand.

When those ice blue eyes find me, they darken. His eyes travel from my face to the bathwater, to the bloody towels and blade lying on the white marble floor. His brow twists in concern, and his lips arch into a scowl.

“What the fuck, Alize…” His voice is low, and his eyes search my face. It’s the kind of tone you’d expect from a disappointed parent. That thought pushes a bark of laughter past my lips.

Alexander looks frozen, like he doesn’t know what to do. It gives me an odd sense of power, to know that he feels that way because of me. I hope he feels entirely helpless for the rest of his fucking life.

“What’s going on, Alize, why did you…” He takes a step closer to me, resting his gun on the vanity. “We talked about this, sweetheart.” My stomach clenches. “What happened?” Then, there’s a flash of anger in his eyes. “Who made you do this?”

I’ve seen that look before.

It’s the same one he wore the night he took me from the Charity Auction.

Alexander thinks himself my Angel of Death. So ready to hurt anyone who even looks at me in the wrong way when he has hurt me more than anyone else ever could.

My lips twist into a humorless smile. His features grow increasingly dark.

“You,” I rasp. “You fucking did, you bastard.” The words spew out of me, and I feel a bit of triumph when he steps back, like I’ve stunned him.

His mask falls into place then, and his expression becomes unreadable.

I’ve watched him do this so many times, and it never occurred to me thatthisis who he really is. He’s just playing a part.

Who he becomes when he’s angry is who he really is.