Page 122 of The Cruelest Chaos

I shook my head. I didn’t. I was saving him.

“You killed him, Maverick. I’m going to tell your parents now.”

She straightened, but her hand was still on my cheek.

“N-no.” My voice was hoarse. I could barely get the word out, but I knew I hadn’t. I hadn’t meant to, anyway. I was…she was…

She hit me, with a closed fist. I felt blinding hot pain as I closed my eyes. I tasted blood in my mouth. My ears were hot and ringing, and then she did it again.

I sunk to my knees.

She turned away without a word.

But she was going to tell my parents. And if she thoughtthathit hurt, she had no idea what my father’s hands were capable of.

I stood up, closing my eyes tight, swallowing back the tears, swallowing down the blood in my mouth.

She killed Malachi.

I didn’t do that.

She did.

She headed inside, into my parents’ room. And I knew there was something special in there. Something I wasn’t supposed to use.

I waited until she had enough time to disappear into the hallway, and then, without looking over the edge of the balcony—if I didn’t look, he was still alive—I crept into my parent’s room.

He was still alive.

He was still going to be alive.

My feet were wet from peeing on myself, and damp footprints appeared on their polished wooden floor with every step I took toward their bed, but I could clean that up later. I’d deal with that after I dealt with…her.

I found it, on my dad’s side of the bed.

A hammer. Amallet, my father had said. It had a yellow handle. Steel head. It was heavy, but adrenaline was suddenly flooding through me at the possibilities. At the ideas.

At what I could do to her with this hammer.

I picked it up, struggling at first, but as anger replaced my fear, it was easier.

And when I found her coming up the stairs, holding the house phone pressed against her ear, it was easier still.

I was at the top step.

I thought about shoving her down, but that didn’t seem quite right. It wasn’t as high of a fall from my parents’ balcony. Malachi had screamed longer than she would.

That wasn’t fair.

I swung as her eyes connected with mine, her mouth dropping open. I was strong enough. My father had put us all in sports. I had lean muscle.

The hammer struck her temple.

The phone fell from her hands, but she was gripping the railing and she didn’t fall back. Not more than a few steps.

I took one step down, my feet nearly slipping from the piss. I steadied myself. Took a breath. Flexed my fingers on the yellow rubber of the handle, and I swung again.

I heard something crack.