Page 26 of Twisted Trust

Her hair flies free from its pins as I drag her back against the wall.

She throws a weak elbow that I duck, then I shove her hard and as she collides with the wall, I pin her back in place with my hand around her already bruised throat.

She gasps raggedly and both her hands clutch at my wrist while I apply just enough pressure to force her wild eyes onto me.

“I don’t give a shit about cameras and the only reason I haven’t killed you yet is because I don’t want to deal with the hassle of cleaning up your fucking body, understand me?”

Her nails become claws, digging into my wrist like a kitten scrabbling for purchase.

Her pulse races frantically underneath my palm and she raises her chin as if she’s trying to narrow her throat to free it from my grip.

“That’s just like you,” she croaks. “Too cowardly to do your own dirty work.”

In any other scenario, I’d be amused, but I’m too angry.

To go from Antony and his fucking weaselly face to Maeve, the root cause of my current predicament, is almost too much to bear.

Why is she here?

Why is the universe doing this to me now?

“Oh, don’t worry, darlin’. I’m going to kill you. I’ve spent the past five years dreaming up all the ways I’m going to make a pretty little thing like you hurt until you’re begging for death. For all the shit you put me through, all the pain you caused? I’m the only one getting my hands dirty with you.”

“Me?” Her nails shred my wrist but the pain isn’t enough for me to release her. “You’re one to talk. Don’t youdaretry and pin your failings on me. I know what kind of man you are. You kill to get your own way, to get rid of anything you don’t have time for. Normal people just send a fucking breakup text.”

“I’m not normal.” Leaning in close, I’m hit by the overwhelmingly familiar scent of jasmine. “You know nothing about me isnormal.”

“You’re insane,” she croaks. “But what can I expect from a liar? Go on, then. Do it. Why the fuck are we dragging this out? You’ve wanted me for five years, so why wait?”

Why wait?

I could do it now.

My gun is on my belt.

I could kill her right now and the catalyst for the shit show of my life would finally be dead.

No.

That’s too easy.

And part of me… can’t.

Her son’s face bursts into my thoughts, and it’s all I can see as I stare her down.

I breathe deeper, soaking in her achingly comforting scent.

For months, it was the only smell I ever wanted to smell.

I breathed her in constantly and worshiped her body just to cover myself in her scent.

Back then, Maeve was like a drug to me in every sense of the word.

Her beauty, her scent, her witty attitude, the apparent kindness in her heart, all of it a carefully constructed plan to destroy me.

“Tell me why,” I demand, sliding my hand up until her jaw sits in the crook between my thumb and forefinger. “Tell me why you did it and I’ll kill you quickly.”

“Why I did what?” Her anger-filled eyes dart back and forth between mine. “Tried to survive?”