Page 38 of Velvet Corruption

“Come on,” I growled. “Just let go—“

Another turn. My hand slipped, just slightly—but the base moved.

And that’s when the sharp metal edge dug in and ripped a clean line across my palm.

“Shit—!”

I dropped back down, clutching my hand. Blood welled fast and hot, running down my wrist in a thin stream.

All because I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. All because I couldn’t stand the prospect of Julian’s judgment.

All this…over a fucking lightbulb.

I staggered to the sink, turning on the faucet with my elbow. The cold water hit the wound like ice, making me hiss through my teeth. The light from the door barely illuminated the trickling stream, but the sharp scent of blood filled the air. Tiny shards of glass glinted all over the sink, some even on the floor—yet another hazard for Julian to jump all over me for.

I pressed a towel to my hand, trying to slow the bleeding. I couldn’t let myself panic. Rosie was asleep. I had to stay calm.

I fumbled for the door handle, clutching my wounded hand to my chest. The hallway’s ambient light felt blinding as I stumbled out, half dazed. I leaned against the wall, observing the blood trickle down my wrist and forearm, creating a macabre red bracelet.

This…it was more serious than I’d thought.

Damn it, damn it,damn it.

A larger shard was still lodged deep in my palm, the edges biting like teeth. Blood welled up around it as I clutched my hand to my chest.

“Mom?” Rosie’s sleepy voice called from the living room. I tensed; the last thing I wanted was for her to see me like this and worry.

“Go back to sleep, peanut. I’m just getting some ice,” I said as softly and casually as I could manage. She murmured something back, unintelligible, the rustle of blankets telling me she was settling again.

In the kitchen, I opened a drawer with my good hand and grabbed a handful of paper towels, already soaked through by the time I pressed them to the cut. I peeled one off, winced, and wrapped another around it tighter.

Blood kept coming.

Perfect. As if I didn’t already have a campaign swallowing my life, now I was bleeding all over the kitchen floor.

And if Julian saw the stain, he’d probably accuse me of leaving Rosie alone while I got drunk and broke a wineglass.

Because in his version of the story, that was always who I was.

I glanced at the living room where Rosie lay sprawled on the couch, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. How many times had I rushed her to the ER for a fever or a broken finger? The thought of waking her now, disrupting this rare moment of peace, made my heart heavy. But I couldn’t just leave her alone.

That meant I had to do something I really didn’t want to do.

I clenched my teeth. I hated that no matter how strained things were between us, he was still the first person I thought of for emergencies.

But he was still her father. So I had to call Julian.

Chapter Nine: Kieran

Ishouldn’t have been there.

Sitting in my car across the street from Ruby’s house, watching her silhouette move through the windows, I felt like I’d crossed every line I swore I wouldn’t.

I told myself it wasn’t stalking. That I was just keeping an eye on her. Protecting her, even. But deep down, I knew better. I had gone back to my place to have a shower, sleep for a few hours, get dressed.

But now I was back, trying to find some information to destroy her. Because that was what I was supposed to do. That’s what I told myself, anyway. But the longer I sat here, the harder it was to believe my own bullshit.

I’d been here for hours, long enough to imagine the rhythms of her morning: Her daughter’s laughter, the flicker of the TV, the occasional clatter of dishes in the sink.