I growl, bringing her head down again and again, blood covering the mirror, and then I haul her up, her body limp and blood pouring down her face, and I hit her, sending her flying to the floor.
She coughs and sputters, and tears stream down my face, but in that moment, I knew.
It would never happen again.
This never had to happen again. I’d kill her if I had to.
Seeing something out of the corner of my eye, I look over my shoulder, seeing Banks standing there with my headphones in her hand.
She looks from my mother on the floor—bloody and weak—to me, her eyes scared.
I rush over, grab her hand, and run from the room. She doesn’t ask questions as I pull her down the stairs, through the house, and out the back doors, into the backyard.
The moon casts a glow over the hedge maze, and we dive in, knowing our way well and finding the fountain immediately.
We climb in and settle behind the water, just like I had done a thousand times before, only once with a girl other than my sister. Banks doesn’t ask me what happened or what I’m going to do. She knows not to talk in here.
Reaching under the groove of the bowl above us, I dig out the silver barrette with pink crystals I hide there, and wrap my fist around it, remembering Winter Ashby’s words from so long ago in that fountain.
Your body can only feel one pain at a time.
She was right. I’ve found that to be true.
But instead of hurting myself to mask pain with more pain, tonight I learned something else.
Hurting others is just as effective.
My mother left after that beating. An hour later, Banks and I had gone back to my room to find her gone, and we fell asleep on the bed, leaving the door unlocked, because we knew. We couldn’t stop the world from happening to us. We could only react.
By morning, my mother was gone, and I never asked where. And as time passed, my father made no effort bring her home again. I didn’t see her until a couple of years later.
And I dealt with it for good that night.
Just like I was going to deal with Winter and the false hope she nearly destroyed me with.
“I want her to want it,” I told Mikhail, his brown eyes looking up at me expectantly. “I want her to want me, to give me her heart, and be my soft, sweet, smiling Little Devil, clutching at me and unable to stop herself.” My heart quickened. “And then I want her to hate herself for it. To turn against herself and hate that she likes it, so she knows she’s weak and pathetic and no different than any other bitch. That she wasn’t special.”
Once I see her as just like everyone else, I’ll have destroyed her and killed my obsession with her. I would’ve killed her power over me, just like Natalya’s.
“And I think she wants to play this game with me,” I joked with the animal.
A knock sounded on the door.
“Come,” I called.
The door opened and closed, and then I heard Crane’s voice behind me.
“She’s inquiring about the dog, sir.”
“Tell her the truth,” I said, smoothing the animal’s fur. “She doesn’t have one anymore.”
“She says there were sounds in the house this morning, too,” he pointed out. “Man-made sounds after you left. She got scared, ran, and went to St. Killian’s.”
“How’d she do that?”
“Uber,” he answered.
I scoffed. Jesus. I never thought of that. Woman was certainly self-sufficient.
But I remembered the first part he said. Noises?
“You think she’s overreacting?” I asked him.
“I don’t know. She seemed very sure,” he explained. “I can install cameras and an alarm system.”
“No,” I told him. “Take on more men. Two details of four each.”
“Yes, sir. She’ll be safe.”
“From everyone but me,” I clarified.
“Yes, sir.”
She was probably just overly alert. Thanks to me.
But she also mentioned a visitor at Bridge Bay Theater days ago. Someone who came into the bathroom and scared her. She thought it was me.
It wasn’t.
This house should have better security, but I didn’t like cameras or video. I’d learned the hard way to not leave evidence.
And given our affluent neighborhood and the low crime rate, Winter’s father never saw fit to arm the house with an alarm system, at the very least. Maybe I’d add one eventually. Right now, I liked coming and going quickly.
“And, sir?” Crane prodded.
“What is it?”
“Her phone’s been ringing downstairs,” he told me, approaching my side. “Would you like me to give it her or…?”
I glanced to where he held it out for me, amused at his coy attempt to give me her phone but still remain innocent in the matter.
I took it.
He left, and I turned it on, seeing it was armed with a pattern passcode. I couldn’t get into it, but there were several notifications visible just on her lock screen.
Mostly from Rika.
An article in the town paper about Winter’s performance last night.
Talk on social media and some videos. Lots of shares and comments as the video spread outside of our town.
I squeezed the phone. She didn’t think she was getting out of here, did she?
And then I expanded a text from Rika. It was a screenshot of a Twitter comment on the video of Winter dancing:
This girl should be everywhere! Why isn’t she touring?
Rika texted below the image:
What she said! Need some sponsors? I might know a few. Let’s talk.
I gritted my teeth together, barking at the dog. “Kom-yen ya!”
He scurried to my side as I left the room, and I carried the phone downstairs and dropped it on the foyer table. I whipped open the front door, charging out of the house.
Fuckin’ Rika.
“Stay,” I told Crane who stood in the driveway, washing the other car. “She doesn’t leave.”
He nodded, and I jumped in my car, the dog taking the passenger seat. I sped off, kicking it into high gear in less than five seconds.
Goddamn her.
My ex-friends were the only people who could protect those in Winter’s life I threatened, and that’s why I needed Rika on my side. Seemed she was tired of waiting for me to keep my end of the bargain, though, so she was trying to undo hers.
She gave me Winter. Now she was trying to take her away.
I stepped into the large hall, hanging back in the shadows as lots of activity happened around the room. I’d missed this place. Hunter-Bailey was a nice club to relax because it was geared for men and didn’t allow women.
Other than one.
After some digging, I’d found out Rika had installed two bouting nights per week at Hunter-Bailey for fencing, and one of them was tonight. It had always been a hobby of hers, as well as collecting swords and various kinds of daggers, and while no other woman was permitted on the premises, Rika could come and go as she pleased as long as she was covert about it. The perks of having a star athlete fiancé for the Meridian City Storm, and a future father-in-law who owned a large fraction of the city.
Boxers went at it in a ring to the left, some worked out, and others lounged on chairs with drinks, chatting it up. I followed the sound of foils clanging together and veered to the other room off to the right and entered, seeing more chairs occupied, a full bar, and members in the middle of the room dueling it out, dressed in their white protective gear and helmets.
I spotted Rika right away. Her body was unmistakable in the tight pants.
She lunged for her opponent, landing her point right in his heart, and I heard him growl and back away before setting himself up again.
I wanted to go over there and drag her off now, but I wasn’t supposed to be in here, Michael having had them cancel my membership two years ago. I was barely able to sneak in at all.
I watched the way she stepped and retreated, rolling her wrists and swinging her arm. Like choreography. Methodical. It was like chess with strategy, but also like a dance. Graceful and statuesque.
I wasn’t sure how long I stood there, leaning against the wall and watching her, but she finished, and I didn’t even know if she’d won. Keeping her mask on, she put up her foil, and walked to the other side of the room, ascending the stairs.
I followed.