Page 131 of Unbroken Rules (Rules 3)

Lie to myself.

I didn’t even last two fucking weeks without her. Thirteen days. That’s how long it took for me to flinch and come crawling back to her. No matter how important it was for me to stay away from her, I couldn’t. Last night was a mistake, but if this is what a mistake feels like… I’ll make this exact mistake for the rest of my miserable life.

I can handle her hating me, but Caleb’s dirty-ass hands on her? That. That

I couldn’t handle. Almost kicked his skull in right there. It hasn’t even been weeks yet and he’s already making his move on her. When I had to watch him take her upstairs, I honestly thought I was going to crack and kick every door down until I found them. She promised that nothing happened between them, and I wanted to believe her.

I wanted to believe her when she kissed me back.

I wanted to believe her when she bounced on my lap.

And I especially wanted to believe her when she came undone while calling my name. Repeatedly.

Fuck, I missed her.

I felt like actual shit when I sneaked out of bed in the morning, but waking up next to her was my breaking point. The moment I knew I couldn’t keep my end of the deal. They said they’re willing to negotiate if I do this one thing for them. This one thing that’s way more than meeting shady people to sell them drugs in dark places the way I did most nights for the past few weeks. This something could get me killed or put in jail.

It’s a job no one else wants. But no one else has something to fight for like I do.

Lose the girl, the douchebag repeated on the other end.

Memories flood my brain, and just like that, I’m back to begging a complete stranger not to ruin my life in an empty parking lot.

THIRTEEN DAYS EARLIER

Pain is a part of life, my mother once said to me after my sister died. It hadn’t even been weeks at this point. It’d been days at most. Still, she continued to act as though Desiree’s murder was just an unfortunate event, a sad story, a bad statistic.

I didn’t want to care anymore. Because all it ever did was ruin me. It destroyed me when life destroyed her. Emotions are how you know you’re alive, she repeated. You have to let them all in to be able to get better. Yeah, well, what’s the point of feeling if everything you love leaves you?

I closed myself off to any type of emotions until the day a five-foot-five brunette called me out on my shit in the school hallway. She made me believe that my mother might be right. That emotions did have a point after all.

But now… Now that I’m standing in front of Vic’s washed-out building with a crumpled note in my hand, I sure as hell wish I didn’t feel anything anymore.

She’s next.

I keep rereading the poorly written words in the hope they’ll disappear. I can’t stop myself from frantically looking around as if I expect the person behind the note to have been dumb enough to stick around.

No one.

Not a single soul.

I can’t believe I didn’t figure this out sooner. Everything about the accident was so fucking weird. It was them. All along. It wasn’t some random hit-and-run. They wanted revenge on me.

So, they took it out on the only person I love in this world.

How did they even find out that she knew? Is it because I moved out? I wasn’t even the one to tell her—Caleb was—and she doesn’t have a clue that I’ve been working with the organization for tips. They probably think she knows about them. Every bit of information spread into the world brings them a step closer to being exposed, and something tells me this twisted revenge game is something these fuckers quite enjoy.

Ricky warned me, but I didn’t listen. I didn’t think they were serious and now… Now, Harry is dying because of me.

Winter’s only parent is dying because of me.

I take a deep breath and dial the last number they gave me frantically. It’s a new one every week. It rings once. Twice. I hold my breath. Someone finally picks up. Not a word. Just silence. Pure and torturous silence.

“Ricky?” I say, getting inside my car and shutting the door when a family of five walks by.

A heavy breath.

“Ricky’s dead.”