I wait until I get to the kitchen before I pull my cell out and double check, but it's not any of the guys. It's fucking Kate. I almost don't open it, but then I see the little paper clip attached to the text and click on it.
It's Avalon. But that's not what has me shaking in rage. It's the man that's got her pinned against the wall. I can't see her face, but even with his face in her neck—I can see exactly who he is. Luc motherfucking Kincaid. And she's with him. What the fuck is she doing with him?
My thoughts spiral. Does she know who he is? Is she fucking him? Or is this ... something more?
The rumors about Kincaid possibly transferring come to the surface of my mind, but now they seem like a much bigger threat. Could she have something to do with it?
No, it can't be, I think, but the denial is full of doubt. There'd been no obvious connection between the two even amidst the extra file we'd been given. Could that fucker be using her? To what end? Does he know what she is to us?
I look back at the text and see that Kate's left a little message below the image.
Thought you should know that your new girl isn't everything she seems.
My arms tremble with rage and before I can even comprehend what I'm doing, I turn and throw the phone as hard as I can. It slams into a mirror hanging across the room and the loud crack that echoes sounds like a gun shooting through glass. Mirror fragments rain down against the floor and as if she's been pulled from my very thoughts, Avalon steps into the room holding a set of keys that most certainly aren't hers.
"What the fuck?" She stares at me, looking from the shattered mirror to my enraged expression.
I advance on her. "Where the hell have you been?" I demand.
"What?" she blinks and unlike anyone else, she doesn't act scared as I stalk across the room.
"I said." Step. "Where." Step. "The fuck." I push her back, against the wall, right next to the broken frame of the now trashed mirror. "Have you been?" My shoes crunch against the glass and I look down, thankful that she, too, has shoes on. Then I shake my head. No. I shouldn't give a fuck if she gets cut up because that's what's happening to me right now. I feel deep slices ripping through my organs as I stare into her storm-cloud eyes.
"I was with a friend," she says, looking away. "But I got bored so I came back."
"Corina?" I clarify. I reach for the keys clutched in her fist. I know I'm about to piss her off and I don't give a shit—but I wouldn't put it past her not to try and shank me with one or all of them. At first, she holds onto them, but when I press down on a particularly sensitive nerve in her hand, she releases with a sharp inhale.
That's right, baby. I know a lot of things you don't know yet.
She lifts her head and eyes me. "Yeah."
"Was she with you the whole time or did you sneak off, Avalon?"
Her lips curve down into a deep scowl. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
She tries to shift away from me, but I grab her and press myself fully against her chest, pinning her to the wall. "Don't fucking walk away from me," I snarl. "Tell me—were you with your little friend this entire time or were you with Luc Kincaid—fucking him?"
A beat of silence passes between us and her head sinks back on her shoulders. Her eyes narrow into tiny little slivers. For several moments, she doesn't say a damn thing, and that's it. That's when I fucking know. I've been fucking played by her. Avalon Manning is no pauper princess. She's a gold digging whore. Just like everything the file says her mother is.
And my fucking father—he and the other heads of the family. They knew. Why would they give me her file then? We were supposed to watch her. Was this it? Just to make sure she didn't fuck up? If that was the case then I'd fucking ruined that plan, because I did fuck it up. I let her get under my skin.
"I'm going to give you three seconds to let me go," she says in a voice so quiet I almost don't catch the words.
I stare at her face—the smooth, creaminess of her skin. The dark lashes that frame her eyes. The small smattering of freckles so light they only really reveal themselves when she's lying out in the sun. And I want to fucking ruin it. I want to wreck this face. Put my hands around her throat and squeeze. I can feel the heat inside me build, like a volcano ready to erupt.
"Dean." She says my name and I hate the way I love it on her tongue. "Get your fucking hands off me now, before I make you. I've had a shit night and I really don't want to fucking do this right now."
"Just tell me the truth then," I insist.
I want to hear her say it. I need to hear her say it. I want either her confirmation or her denial—either one will tell me what kind of person she really is, but in true Avalon fashion, she gives me neither. When I don't move, she places two hands on my chest and shoves me back before turning away.
"I didn't fucking say you could leave!" I reach for her arm, but as soon as I feel my fingers lock on her bicep, she's twisting out of my grip and throwing a right hook towards my face.
"And I didn't fucking say you could touch me, asshole!" she yells back. "I'm fucking sick and tired of you dicks thinking you can just grab me and throw me around like a goddamn ragdoll! You think just because I fucked you that I belong to you? Well, I don't. I belong to no one but myself. So, you can go fuck off for all I care."
Red colors the corners of my vision. Even sitting alone in his giant fucking houses with wounds all over my body from nightly 'training' sessions. Even after I'd killed my first traitor. Even through the worst of my adolescence and childhood, I'd never felt this angry. And before I can stop to think or ask myself why it's like this with her it's already too late.
More broken glass crunches under my shoes as I snatch her up and slam her back into another wall, shoving my body against her, letting one of my legs between her thighs. "You do belong to me," I tell her in the coldest of tones. "I can do whatever I want with you and there’s nothing you can do to stop me. You’re not going to run away. I'm not going to let you run back to him—he only wants to fuck whores anyway … or wait, is that what you want? You want me to fuck you like a whore? I thought I pleased you enough already, but if that’s what you want, baby…” I move back, dropping her back to the floor so that I can see her reaction.
Big fucking mistake. Avalon shoots away from me and when I move to follow her she turns back around and punches me in the nose. "Shit!" I stumble back as blood pours down over my upper lip, but she's not done yet. Oh no, not my girl. She rears back and delivers what I might've called the perfect full frontal kick if it hadn't been aimed directly for my balls.
I go down in a heap, wheezing as pain ricochets through me. The glass on the floor cuts through my fucking jeans and I can feel the stings of each wound. None are greater, though, than the thought that I've been well, and truly fucking fucked by her.
A small feminine hand sifts through my hair, yanking my head back as I try to catch my breath and keep from throwing up. Her other hand grabs my throat as she leans down and hisses in my ear—and even through the agony in my body and the fury I'm feeling, I can't help but find her fucking magnificent in her own wrathful animosity.