Page 80 of Survival

“Was he the one who decided to have youtrained so thoroughly in self-defense?”

“Both my parents did. They wanted me to beable to protect myself. The same went for my brothers. They’recurrently in Krav Maga.”

“So,I’mguessinghe wasn’t exactly the stereotypical dad who sits onthe porch with ashotgunwhile hewaited for your first date to arrive?”

I chuckled a little. “No, he didn’t need to.He knew I could handle myself just fine without him.”

“Or so hethought.” Darren smirked. God, fuck him.

“I was taken on by four heavily armed menwho had to tranquilize me to get me, and I still managed to inflictsome serious damage on them. Even you couldn’t have gotten out ofthat.”

“Obviously, you still have much to learnabout me.”

I rolled my eyes. He was such anarcissist.

“So how did your dad pass?” hecontinued.

“You already know the answer to thatquestion, so why are you asking.”

“You wanna go to strike two?”

I clenched my fist until it shook.

“No,” I huffed.

“Then answer the fucking question,” heseethed.

“Cancer,” I replied bitterly. Fuckingshithead.

He was quiet for a second as his handstightened on my back.

“Shitty way to go.”

“Yeah, I supposed it was pretty shitty, huh?Just like the rest of my fucking life.”

Then a hard smack came crashing down on myass, and I cried out in agony as my ass cheek throbbed like ablinking red light.

“That’s enough, Jaden!” he yelled at me.

“Well,whatthe fuck do you expect?” I shouted. “This is a sore topic for me,and I’m pouring out my fucking heart to you and all you’re doing ishitting me for it!”

“You need to learn to control your emotions.You let them get the better of you and that’s what gets youintotrouble with me. Being ableto control yourself around me will be a very beneficial trait foryou to pick up quickly.”

I was so frustrated with him and theconversation that I just buried my face into his shirt and silentlygroaned to myself. I hated him so fucking much; I just wanted tochoke the life right out of him.

“Do you understand me?” he nearlygrowled.

“Yes,” I stifled against his shirt.

“Good, now what did your daddy do for aliving?”

Daddy …Pfft. Another word I never used.

I might have loved my dad, but I was never a“daddy’s girl.”

“He was a mechanic,” I replied. “ForGM.”

“So he was a grease monkey, too, huh?”