Page 56 of The Cruelest Chaos

Her grip in my hair loosens.

I stand up straighter, turning toward the door, expecting to see her boyfriend of the night.

I can still hear her breathing, feel her fingers still fisted in my hair, but when my eyes connect with Maverick’s baby blue ones, I don’t give a shit.

I lower my hand from my face.

His jaw is clenched, eyes narrowed as his gaze shifts to my mother, who is silent beside me.

In this trailer, Maverick is like a giant. His head nearly touches the ceiling, and he towers over both of us.

I see his hands by his sides. They’re loose, not curled into fists, but I see the tension in his neck, just above his skeleton bandana.

My mom is panting, and I don’t know if she’s horny or pissed or both.

In this moment, my mom and I might have one thing in common.

I hold my hand to my still-burning face, and Maverick’s gaze catches the movement, but he doesn’t look at me for long.

“Let go of her.”

My mother’s fingers tighten for one second, and then she drops her hand. Maverick takes a step toward her.

She takes a step back, wrapping her arms around herself, nearly trembling under his cold gaze.

“I could hear you,” he says softly. “I could hear you screaming from outside.”

My mom swallows, opens her mouth to speak, her lip trembling. She stutters something but can’t get the words out.

“I heard what you called her.” He keeps stepping closer, and soon, the back of her knees hit the couch and she’s got nowhere to go.

I watch them, silent, the keys still in my hand.

“Is that how you always speak to your daughter?” He cocks his head, his hands still loose by his side.

My mom shakes her head, forces a fake smile on her face. “N-no, we were just arguing. We were just… Who are you?” she asks, feigned politeness in her words. Her eyes flick to me. “Are you Ella’s…boyfriend?”

I suck in a breath.

I don’t want him to answer that question again. Now is not the time.

“Do you always hit her when you scream at her?” His voice is so soft, almost gentle.

My mom forces a laugh, her arms squeezing herself tighter. “I didn’t—”

“I heard that, too.”

Maverick steps so close to her they’re nearly touching. He lifts his hand, and his fingers curl around her throat as he pulls her up off the fucking floor. Her nails scratch at his skin, panic in her eyes as she tries, and fails, to speak.

“If you ever touch her again,” he croons, “if youeverhit her again, I promise you, I’ll fucking kill you.”

He doesn’t let her down. She’s still digging her yellowed nails into his skin, her feet kicking at the air beneath her. Her face is turning red.

I’m worried he’s going to make good on his promise right now. “Mavy,” I say softly.

His back tenses beneath the tight black sweater he’s wearing, but he doesn’t look at me.

“Mavy, put her down.”