“You took that from him,” I growled, tightening every muscle as he sat down on the bed.
Trevor’s hand trailed up my leg, and I kicked, shoving him off, but he only smiled and gripped my thigh harder, making me cry out.
I can’t believe I ever let him touch me.
Last year, I’d given in to the years of pressure of being pushed together for dances, parties, and pictures, and I stopped fighting the constant assumptions that were together and finally just let it happen. Trevor gave me stability, he wanted me, and I was too stupid to believe I deserved better. But most of all, he was a distraction from Michael. I thought he would make me move on and forget.
It didn’t take long for me to realize that Trevor gave me nothing. In one night, Michael had showed me that I wasn’t weak. That I was beautiful, wanted, and strong, and even though that night was short-lived, I knew what I felt for Trevor didn’t even compare to everything that Michael was for me.
Trevor only claimed me as a prize. He didn’t see me.
“How can you do this?” I demanded. “What do you want?”
“I want to see you both lose,” he retorted. “I’m done being in Michael’s shadow, and I’m done watching you pant after him.” He raised his eyes, looking at me. “I want to see you both hurt.”
I ground my teeth together, jerking at the rope again and again. “Let me go.”
His hand slipped under my shirt, and I tried to twist away, his touch making my skin crawl.
“As for Damon? He just wants everyone to hurt,” he pointed out. “He and I make a great pair.”
“Why would he cover for you?” I demanded. “He knew it was you in that mask that night. Why would he let me think it was Kai?”
Trevor shrugged, watching his hand slide over my stomach. “You’d already been kicked to the trash by Michael. It served our purpose if you didn’t think you had a friend out of them left. Plus,” he said with a smile, “he doesn’t give a shit about you. After he and the rest of them thought you outed them, I think he got off on the idea that the only real threat to you was right under your nose.”
Meaning Trevor. Always there. Just one room away. Lurking, waiting…
“But you knew they thought I took the phone and uploaded the videos. You had to know they’d come after me.”
“Which wouldn’t have been a problem if you hadn’t decided to leave Brown,” he shot back. “I could’ve kept Damon at bay, and he could’ve kept the rest of them waiting.” He sighed and then continued, “But you left my protection, and maybe I just decided to let it play out. If they hurt you—if Michael hurt you—before they realized their mistake in blaming the wrong person, then maybe you’d give up on him once and for all.”
And then he got up on his hands and knees and crawled over me, hovering his face over mine. “Maybe you’d finally knock him off that pedestal you always put him on and see him for what he really is.”
“Which is what?” I bit out.
“Lesser than me.”
And then he popped his head up, as if hearing something. He shot off the bed and walked around the room, gazing out the windows.
“The only mistake I made,” he commented, peering out into the night, “was quoting my father that night in the forest. Otherwise you may never have figured it out.”
My body shook with fear, and I tilted my head back, squirming as I pulled against the ropes again.
“So what’s your plan now?” I demanded. “What could you hope to accomplish by this? Michael has everything that belongs to me—the house, the deeds, everything— and you’ll never get me back. I’d rather die than let you near me again.”
“You think I want you back?” He turned, folding his arms over his chest. “My brother’s whore?”
He chuckled to himself and walked over to me.
“Oh, no,” he replied, looking smug. “I can do so much better than you. And as for Michael having everything, that’s easy. The dead don’t own property.”
The dead? Did he mean…?
If Michael were dead, everything would revert back to Mr. Crist. And if Trevor no longer wanted me to get at what was mine, then, for him to get everything, I would also have to be…
Michael.
I jerked at the ropes, trying to pull my wrists free. “Fuck you!” I cried out, feeling the burn of my tears fall across the spot on my cheek where he’d hit me. My wrists stung from the layer of skin I’d probably worn away, but I growled, thrashing and pulling at them harder and harder.
“Listen,” Trevor chirped. “Do you hear that?”
I didn’t stop, but I heard it. It was a high-pitched motor, and it was getting louder.
Nearer.
A speedboat.
I stilled. No.
“He’s coming,” Trevor said, excitement in his eyes.
And then he held up his wrist, checking his watch. “It’s eleven oh-eight, baby,” he announced and then leaned down, close to my face. “By eleven-thirty, you both will be on your way to the bottom of the ocean.”
Present