Page 125 of Velvet Corruption

It was him.

The way he just sat there. The way he made everything seem so inevitable, like it had always been leading to this, like I had always been on this path.

I walked to the kitchen again, then I opened the cabinet above the sink and grabbed the bottle of codeine, walking back into theliving room and tossing it at him without looking. He caught it easily, hand-eye coordination unbroken by the pain.

He was probably used to this.

Being in pain.

Pretending he wasn’t.

“Oh, nice,” he said. “This is better than Advil. You should have one too.”

“Thank the root canal I had two weeks ago,” I said. “Which was, I should point out, less painful than dealing with you tonight. I should have one?”

“Yeah, he beat you up pretty bad,” he said. “Once the adrenaline wears off, you’ll be in a ton of pain. You want to stave that off before it gets bad.” “I’m good, thanks.” I turned back around, arms crossed over my chest. I could still feel his eyes on me, watching, assessing, waiting. “How long until your guys get here?”

He twisted the cap off the bottle, dry swallowed two pills, and checked his watch. Then he handed me the pills. “Soon. Have one. I mean it.”

I exhaled through my nose, my fingers tightening on my arms.

I dry swallowed a codeine pill, too. It tasted horrible.

Kieran sighed, shifting on the couch. “Sit down, Ruby.”

“I don’t want to sit down.”

His gaze swept over me.

“Then stand there and vibrate out of your skin,” he said, tilting his head against the back of the couch. “Your call.”

I clenched my teeth. “I hate you.”

He hummed.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I like you, so I’ll fix this.”

And then he winked at me again.

I stiffened at his voice, at the glint in his eyes.

What the fuck could I possibly say to that?

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Kieran

The air in the house had shifted.

Not in the way that blood does, thickening the space it stains. Not in the way that silence presses in after violence.

This was different.

Ruby had stopped cleaning, but she was still stuck. She wouldn’t leave. Wouldn’t go upstairs. Wouldn’t let herself sit down, either. She stood at the entrance to the kitchen, her back against the counter, her arms crossed so tightly over her chest it looked like she was holding herself together by sheer will alone.

I watched her for a moment longer before turning toward the front door. Right on time. Headlights sliced through the front window as a car pulled up.

A knock—short and sharp. I opened the door to Lorenzo and Mac.

“Hey, boss.”