Page 43 of The Deceptions

Amanda. Their biggest fan. A politician's daughter oozing privilege and entitlement. Oh, and she hates me. So, that’s a plus.

She grins, tossing her blonde locks over her shoulder. “I'm so glad to see you guys made it!” She doesn't bother acknowledging my existence. It's fine, though. Because I'd rather vomit lava than say hello to her.

Shivers work through me at the memory. It's been happening so much lately. Those tiny slices of our history resurfacing out of nowhere.

Only this time, it's because of them. They're so close for the first time in five years. Physically near. My body feels it. Reacts at the sight of them. My soul reaches for them; despite the damage they've done to it. They darkened it. Betrayed it. Yet, it betrays me, seeking old comforts.

But I won't let it.

There’s too much rage living within me to ever consider them again. I’m here on a mission to bring them down.

I can't peel my eyes away. It's like a train wreck at full speed, crashing into me with every damn emotion.

My fingers curl into fists. Jordy shifts beside me, following my gaze. Redness tints his cheeks, and his eyes narrow dangerously tight.

“That’s them?” he says through a rushed breath, filled with a rage I haven't heard from him before. He's mostly butterflies and unicorns. Using his humor to deflect from the pesky emotions bubbling up inside him.

But right now? There's murder in his tone and promise in his eyes.

” Yup,” I breathe, unable to say anything else.

It’s them.

Huxley smiles at JJ, who tucks his hands into his jeans pockets with a familiar, shy smile. He was always so reserved, hiding everything from the outside world. Not me, though. I broke through his trauma. He was mine. My broken boy. And I, his broken girl.

JJ’s dark eyes lift slightly as he shakes his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes. Long ago, he wore black-rimmed glasses, but they’re nowhere in sight. Maybe he finally graduated to contacts.

Or…maybe I shouldn’t care.

I shake my head. That's a thing of the past. I am dead in their eyes. No one. And they shouldn't elicit so many weird feelings that burst inside me. It’s like my soul remembers the good times we had. The promises that were made. The small touches. The laughs. The everything we were to each other.

But my mind remembers almost every detail of their deception.

It's hard to process a betrayal when the ones responsible were held on a pedestal for so long. They were my protectors in the storms, hiding me from my father's rage and my mother's incompetence—until that image shattered like a statue crumbling to the ground and disappearing forever.

Mack frowns. A frown he never wore before. It ages him. Making him into a darkened figure filled with hate. Mack was always happy-go-lucky despite his circumstances. He felt relief when the state took him away from his mother, and he found himself in the Franco household. From there, he learned to become valuable to his new foster dad and became a permanent fixture by Hux’s side. His bright blue eyes shined brighter. His smile grew wider. Happiness had found him once and for all.

“I’m serious about my promise,” Jordy growls, pulling up the front of his shirt and revealing a handgun resting in his pants. “I have my long-range in the back. They’ll never know what hit them.” Rage fills his light eyes to the brim, darkening them withhis promise. “I can drive two miles from here and still hit my mark.”

I know he's not joking. Jordy is the best shot we’ve got. Well, besides me, of course. He's taken down people from further away, which shouldn't be possible. He's an asset. But don’t ever tell him that, it’ll go straight to his big head and he’ll never let me live it down.

I quickly grab his arm as he reaches back with the intention of doing as he says. I squeeze him until he stops and blinks up at me through a red haze.

“Not here.” I shake my head. “They don’t deserve a quick exit.” It deserves to be slow and agonizing, like what happened to me.

Karma will get them. That’s for sure.

Jordy mulls my words over before slumping in his seat when he realizes I’m right. His gaze never leaves the men conversing with the group of girls. So full of life. Laughing. Breathing.

Do they ever think about me? And what they did to me? Or do they go to bed each night with a clear conscience, laughing at my naive expense?

I watch with bated breath as the girls walk away from them with smiles on their faces. Once out of sight, the three men stand shoulder to shoulder, crossing their arms over their muscular chests and eyeing the campus like Gods lording over their subjects.

Everyone who passed by waves at them. Men. Women. Even the parents seem to know them.

Huxley’s eyes scan the parking lot with a flat expression. Taking everything in like he was taught to do. A perfect soldier for Franco. He stands tall. Shoulders pulled back and ready for anything. The longer strands of his brown hair blow in the slight breeze, drifting across his forehead, while the sides are shorter, nearly shaved. From here, I can’t see the gleam in his moss-green eyes. The same gleam I came to know well as a teenager whenever he was plotting something dangerous or fun.

There’s a harder edge to Hux. Like Franco successfully molded Hux into the man he always wanted him to be. A leader. A fixture of his gang.