“Who did it?” I cleared the thoughts in my head. My fingers fiddled with the locket around my neck, something I did when I was nervous.
“Why do you want to know?” I set my mouth in a firm line. “Want to thank them for doing the job? Give them a medal? Bond over your hatred for me?”
His face twitched. The sharp line of his jaw appeared like steel. “I don’t hit girls, Hayley. Whoever did this deserves to have their teeth kicked in.”
“And what if it was a girl who did it? I thought you didn’t hit girls.”
He scoffed. “It wasn’t a girl. Whoever did this to you is bigger and stronger. Or else they never would have gotten a hit in. Now, who did it?”
I leveled him with a stare, shifting on my bare feet. “Did you climb through my window? How did you even know which one was mine?” Christian was wearing jeans, his Vans, and a dark T-shirt—none of which had dirt or even a tiny smudge from climbing. How was that possible? Last time I climbed down the lattice, I tore the hole in my jeans even wider.
“Tell me who, Hayley.” Christian’s voice was strained, rough like he had swallowed gravel.
I huffed and rolled my eyes, and instead of answering him, I tiptoed over to my bed and lay down, not even sparing him a glance. I covered myself back up with the thin-as-paper blanket Jill had laid out for me the first day I got here and pretended like I was going back to sleep.
I was certain I appeared cool and nonchalant, lazily getting comfortable in my prison-like bed, but on the inside, I was frazzled. My nerves were fried, and my heart was racing. What does this mean? Why is he here? Why does he care? Why are you excited?
Part of me wondered if maybe Piper was right. Maybe he didn’t hate me like he said.
“You can leave now. I’m not telling you anything,” I said, closing my eyes and attempting to calm my heart rate.
Hearing pacing, I peeked an eye and saw Christian storming back and forth in my room. I hurriedly sat up. “Stop it!” I hissed. “You’ll wake Pete up!”
He stopped and glared. “Who’s Pete?”
“My foster dad, now stop.”
The tilt of his head and sinister look he leveled me with had me gulping. “Did he do it?”
I flung the blanket off my legs, all hot and pissed off. “Why do you even care? You have made it very clear you hate me and want me gone. So why?”
He looked troubled. His heavy brow furrowed. “Did someone at school do it? I need to know, Hayley. Quit fuckin’ around and tell me.”
“Please,” I hushed. “Keep your voice down.”
Nerves were coiling inside my stomach. My hands started to tremble. “Is that what this is about? Wondering if someone at school did this?”
He shrugged, looking out the window. “If someone in my school is hitting girls, I need to fucking know.”
And here I thought that he might actually care about me. What a joke. No. King Christian only cared about his stupid, forsaken school. Why are you so upset about this, Hayley?
A dire laugh fell out of my mouth. “You can relax; your precious peasants are all following your rules. No one has messed with me since Madeline took my clothes.”
“It was your foster dad, wasn’t it?” His eyes jerked to my bedroom door, and it felt like a bullet had lodged its way into my spine.
Knowing he was correct, he lunged for the door, turned the knob, and paused. He tried turning it two more times, jiggling it back and forth. Then, he slowly turned around, his broad shoulders pulled back tightly. “Is..” He swept his dark gaze back at the door before leveling it in my direction. “Is your fucking door locked?”
I had to admit, this was not how I had planned for my night to go. I was supposed to be sleeping peacefully on my prison cot.
“You better fucking tell me what the hell is going on right now, or I swear to God I’ll break down this door with my bare hands and find out for myself.”
“Jesus Christ,” I whisper-shouted. I walked over to the pile of clothes on my floor and pulled on some jeans. Christian’s jaw went a little slack as he watched my every move. It was a nice look for him. Much better than the angry, firm jaw and menacing eyes he often threw my way. I whipped my shirt off, thankful I had a bra on, and threw on a hoodie. I trotted over to my bed, created a dummy-like body lying on the mattress with my pillow and a pile of dirty clothes, switched off my lamp, and trotted over to the window. “Since you’re acting like a man-toddler, stomping around and yelling like a freaking Neanderthal, we’re going to talk outside. So, let’s go.”
I didn’t wait for Christian to answer me. I was certain he was angry at me for bossing him around, but I thought that might have been just what he needed.
Christian needed a little dose of his own medicine.
Chapter Seventeen