Kingpin (Court University 2)

I swallowed, a sticky knot in my throat. Sinclair was horrifying with his appearance, a shell of himself. A shadow darkened beneath each eye, and showers seemed to have been a thing of the past. My lips parted. “Sinclair…”

“I told you to shut the fuck up, Billie,” he gritted, and his hands working the wheel, I’d definitely seen this inside him. He’d snapped at me quite a few times in our relationship. But even this I hadn’t guessed. Even with the signs of his stalking. He’d been mad, yes, but not crazy mad. His jaw worked. “Haven’t you done enough? I’ve lost everything because of you.”

“What do you mean?”

He actually laughed, the dark tone shooting a chill directly down my spine. My hands curled at my sides as I attempted to keep my panic inside and my legs completely apart for my phone. He grunted. “You and fucking Lance Johnson.” His gaze dragged down my body. “He’s obviously obsessed with you.”

Him obsessed with me? What the hell? “Sinclair, I have no idea—”

“Of course, you don’t. You’re daft as a fucking doorknob. Meanwhile, you rip through people’s lives without any fucks given. You ruin everything. Everything…”

He rounded a turn too fast, and up here, there was little to no traction.

I gripped the door. “Stop! You’re going to tip us over. The turn is too tight on this road.”

I shouted everything I saw, tried at least. Even still, I had no idea if what I was doing or saying was falling on deaf ears.

Meanwhile, Sinclair was shooting down the dirt hills of the Grey Woods at top speeds when they maybe allowed for fifteen miles per hour. We’d only seen one car up here, but the way he was moving, he’d have us out of the woods and on the main roads.

God only knew where else after that.

I didn’t know where we’d go then, so scared as I closed my eyes, and Sinclair merely laughed in my direction.

“You’re scared of me?” A dry chuckle. He hit his chest so hard I thought he’d stop his heart. “I’m the victim here. Me. My dad has put me on leave. I’ve lost everything.”

“Why would he do that?” I gripped my chair, trying to sound calm. Trying to sound soothing so he’d keep talking and not do something even crazier than he already was.

“Because of that guy at the party.” Sinclair shook his head, his knuckles white on the wheel. “I ghosted that guy, and he got pissed and put a video up on social media. A video of him and me together.”

My mouth parted.

“The whole fucking office saw it!” Sinclair slammed his hand on the wheel, the sound blasting into my heart. “My dad saw it, and he told me he wanted nothing to do with me. He put me on leave for show, but it’s over. It’s over. I’m dead to him.”

My swallow hard, I sat up. “If your dad is like that, that’s on him, Sinclair. It’s okay—”

“It’s not okay! No!” He shoved his hand into his hair. “I wouldn’t even have met that guy if it wasn’t for you. You and that fucking asshole Lance Johnson.”

He was taking no responsibility for his own actions, things he’d done like cheat on me. I sympathized for him, yes, but I couldn’t give him any more than that. He’d acted on his own. He’d chosen to go behind my back.

Even still, I was dealing with a new Sinclair. One who wasn’t thinking straight at all.

After all, he had snatched me.

I wiggled in my seat, trying to keep the phone from being obstructed. “Your dad’s the problem. Not you.”

“No, you’re the problem.” A dry laugh fell from his lips, his tone so cold. “I loved you, but you threw it all away. You threw me away. I could have made you happy. I loved you!”

“Sinclair—”

“I wanted you, Billie!” He took my hand, placing it on his chest. A shake of his head, and his tears finally fell. “I could have made you happy. Not that piece of shit Johnson. You know he’s a drug dealer? Some of the shit he’s into and who he works for?” He hit his head back against the seat, then snarled. “You know, you were in hiding because he’s a piece of shit, right? He put you in danger.”

I blinked. “How did you know that? How did you even find me?”

“I’m a lawyer, Billie. I have friends at the DA’s office.” He threw my hand, almost disgusted. He faced the road. “People talk over beers. They were going on about this girl in hiding and her association with this Lance Johnson. Lance goddamn Johnson.”

A growl and his foot accelerated on the gas.

I screamed, and he wheeled us off the dirt path and onto the main road. So quick he darted toward a semitruck on the other side.