Page 25 of The Cruelest Chaos

“Hurry your ass up,” I snap at her, shoving on my hoodie. “I’ve gotta drop you off and I’m already late.” I told her I was meeting my ‘brothers’. Which is true.

She jumps down the last two steps, her green eyes holding mine as I rake my hand through my hair. She doesn’t say anything—she never seems to say much—and just takes her sweet ass time putting on her thigh-high boots, sitting on the bottom step of my stairs.

I sigh, leaning my head back against the door. “Where do you live anyway?”

She snorts.

I dip my chin to glare at her. She zips up her boots, stands to her feet and smooths down her dress. It’s wrinkled. Her lip is swollen. Hair a mess on top of her head.

She looks fucking amazing.

“Far from here.” She runs her hand over the messy bun, tied up with a rubber band she made me find for her since obviously I don’t have hair ties. “I’ll get a ride.”

She pulls a phone I didn’t even know she had out of her bra.

My mouth falls open as she scrolls through it, like she actually thinks I’m going to let her get a fucking ride. The gates to the neighborhood are guarded with armed men, anyway. And yeah, sure, if she was just an okay lay, I’d probably just give ‘em a call and tell them to let the cab through.

But she’s more than okay.

I grab the phone from her hand, and she glares up at me like she wants to slap me, for thefourthtime.

I press my finger to her lips. “I’m taking you home.” I slip her phone in my pocket, other hand still on her mouth, and she makes to bite my finger. I snatch it away before she can. “You’re a crazy bitch, did you know that?”

She doesn’t say anything, just walks past me and lifts her middle finger as she pulls open the door. This kid is full of fucking surprises.

Shedoeslive far, and she lives in a trailer park. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a trailer park in my life, but it’s fascinating. There’s a dirt road, full of potholes that I have to steer carefully around—she laughs at that—and there are cars worth more than the fucking trailers themselves which just…makes no sense.

My car is a little extra. But my house…it’s worth four times as much as the McLaren.

Whatever.

“Which one is yours?” I ask her.

She doesn’t answer for a few seconds as I maneuver around another fucking pothole and I want to strangle her. If I pass it and have to turn back, I’m gonna be pissed. I’m already fucking late, my back is on fire, and I might never see this girl again which would probably be for the best but also makes me irrationally annoyed.

“Last one,” she finally answers me.

I turn in, notice that there aren’t any lights on outside, and no car in the muddy driveway. The screen door is nearly hanging off the hinges, and the porch looks like it could collapse at any minute.

She reaches for her seatbelt.

“Wait,” I say, turning off my lights. I don’t know this area of Alexandria well, but I don’t want to have to stab anyone that tries to come bum some money off of me. I realize maybe that’s a stretch and I’m being a snob, but then again…stranger things have happened.

She glances at me but undoes her seatbelt anyway. She brushes a stray lock of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Her lip is still red and swollen, and it’s making me hard and making it difficult to think about just what it is I want to say to her.

“Stay with me again tonight.”

She snorts, looking out the window. But she’s not getting out, so…

“Don’t tell me you didn’t have fun today.”

“Do you work?”

“Excuse me?” It’s Sunday. Even if I had a normal job, chances are I’d be off today.

She turns to glare at me. “Do you work?”

Yeah. I kill people for a living. Sometimes for fun, too.“Yes.”