Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 129986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
“That’s true. But you should think about what will happen if your mission to save her from me works. If I lose Aubrey, and I can’t get her back. If I think it’s your fault.”
Wisely, she swallows and eases away from me.
I smile. “If that happens, little orphan Hannah, I will be back. I won’t kill you, but I’ll make you wish I had. Can you imagine if I fucked you? The abuse you would have to endure at your sister’s hands.”
Her voice is small because she knows she’s entirely defenseless against such a threat. If I wanted to take her right now, I could, and even if her cries woke them up, no one in this house would lift a finger to help her. “I would never let you fuck me,” she states.
I lean in to look her in the eye. “And I wouldn’t care how much you screamed and begged for me to stop.”
She braces her hands beside her on the bed and draws in a shaky breath. “Get out of my bedroom.”
Her voice shakes. I debate scaring her a little more to really drive my point home, but I don’t want to risk her saying something to Aubrey.
That’d be a bit fucking stupid unless she has brutal rape fantasies, but I don’t know how bright Hannah Dupont is.
Better not risk it.
There is one more thing I can do, though.
“I’m surprised they let you keep this bedroom,” I say, gesturing around the spacious room that has obviously been hers since childhood. “The way Anae and her mom feel about you, I’d have thought they would’ve stashed you somewhere less… comfortable.” I meet her gaze. “Maybe I’ll mention that to her.”
Then, the cherry on top of her punishment. I draw the photograph of her with her parents out of my pocket. She frowns when I hold it up, her eyes widening when she realizes what it is. Her gaze darts to the dresser, but the sound of me tearing it in half jerks her focus back to me.
“No,” she cries, reaching for it.
Too late.
I drop the torn pieces on her bed. “If I have to come back, it’ll be much more than an old picture I tear through.”
Gathering the torn pieces of the picture in her hands and looking at me like I’ve just broken her heart, she says softly, “You’re a monster.”
“And you’re no longer Aubrey’s friend. Next time you see her, walk the other way. If she messages you, be busy. The friendship is new, so it should be easy enough to unravel.”
“You already have Anae, and she would do anything for you,” Hannah says. “Why can’t you just leave Aubrey alone?”
I pause on my way to the door and look back at her. “I think I might be in love with her.”
Hannah’s gaze softens a smidge, but I almost think she looks… pitying. “This isn’t love,” she says softly.
“How would you know?” I toss back. “Nobody loves you.”
She gasps like I just struck her.
I smile because I did, with the ugliest weapon I have at my disposal—the truth.
I turn the doorknob and leave without waiting for a response, satisfied that now Hannah Dupont knows she had better mind her fucking business—or else.
Chapter twenty-nine
Aubrey
I wake up to my alarm and the bed all to myself, but I also have a text from Dare that makes me smile.
“Should have taken you up on that offer. It was a long night without you.”
I sigh happily and text back, “Don’t worry, you can have a rain check.” I add a heart emoji and press send, then I fall back in the bed with the phone hugged to my chest.
I hope he’ll text back, but he must be still asleep or busy getting ready because a few minutes pass, and nothing.
I guess that means I should get up.
Strangely, when I sit up on the edge of the bed, I feel sore between my thighs like I did when we had sex. I know he went down on me pretty enthusiastically, but I didn’t think that would make me sore.
I guess maybe it’s leftover soreness from the night before, but I’m sore in places I wasn’t yesterday. Weird.
I shower and brush my teeth, then I get dressed for the day and head to the kitchen to make Mom her tea and some breakfast for both of us.
“How’d you sleep?” I ask her as I grab the matcha tea.
“Very well,” she says, looking back at me. “Did you and Dare have fun?”
“Yeah, we watched a movie and cuddled a bit before he went home.”
“He seems very affectionate,” she remarks.
I smile. “Yeah.”
“He really seemed to like you, too.”
My smile widens. “Yeah.”
“I’m glad,” Mom says seriously. “You deserve to have some sunshine in your life.”
Sunshine makes me think of Hannah.
I grab my phone and shoot her a message telling her we’re having the last of the muffins I made with her recipe this morning with a little crying face emoji. I expect her to message me back, but after a few minutes have passed and I’ve given Mom her tea, I check my phone and see she hasn’t responded. Rereading the message and thinking maybe it came off weird, I add, “I can’t wait to make them again, though! Thanks so much for the recipe.”