Jaden (Jaded 3)

A fond smile graced my face.

The old Sheldon would’ve been these girls’ worst nightmare. She would’ve eaten them up. That’s what she did. Anyone who tried to manipulate her, use her, control her, and Sheldon snapped back—with teeth. She had a bite to follow her bark.

“You don’t have a shot with him, honey.” Sheldon pointed at the girl’s chest. “Those are A cups, if even. Stuffing them will fool ’em for one night. Once that top goes off, poof, there they go. Yep. See.” She pointed across the pool. “That girl’s got a good C cup.” Moving past them, she threw over her shoulder before heading to a lounger, “And a couple years of experience, if you get my drift. Find a guy in your grade. They’re more worth it. Trust me.”

Both girls had moved past their shocked pretentious ways. They were glancing at the guy, considering what she had said as I moved past them.

Yes, she still had that bite.

It was something I loved about her. I was proud she had that fighting spirit in her. I wished so many times I had inherited that from my father. I hadn’t. I had inherited a different way of fighting. I did the unthinkable. I did what people feared, but secretly wished they could do. I was the stalker in the night. Sheldon would give out orders, commanding people to do what she wanted, but I was the type who pulled the strings.

People were like chess pieces. I lined them up until I knew how to strike them down. Not Sheldon, though. I never would have to strike her down. That’s why I protected her. That was my job, even if I had been doing it in secret for so long. Like last year, when I snuck in to her house. Denton’s makeup artist had helped me, even though she never realized I hadn’t been going to

a costume party.

I had gone to Sheldon’s house wearing Marcus’ face. I wanted to check on her and make sure she was fine. I remembered her scream. I hadn’t expected her to see me. No one usually did. I was always in the shadows, but in hindsight, I should’ve known. Of course, Sheldon would be the one to see me.

Dressing as Marcus had been my homage to him. I never thought about how it would’ve frightened her, and I was angry with myself. I should’ve thought ahead.

I hadn’t.

I needed to make it up to her, then I heard what Grace had done. She turned her back on Sheldon. She hurt her. She betrayed her.

She had earned her place in Sheldon’s inner circle and she performed the worst sin. She abandoned Sheldon.

When I heard everything, I knew how I could make things right for Sheldon again.

So I did what I had to do. Grace thought I had come to comfort her. She called me earlier that night and told me what she confessed. She was going to make things right with Sheldon, but it was too late.

She had stabbed her in the back. I wasn’t going to allow her to do it again so I poisoned her wine that night. When she started gasping for breath, she reached out for me. She wanted me to help, but I stood there and waited.

That’s when she realized what I had done, and she knew I was the protector.

That look in her eye, when she realized who I was, it had given me an adrenaline rush. I was important. I was necessary. I wouldn’t let her get close to Sheldon any more. Then there was peace.

Grace was home. I had helped her, too. I knew where she was; she was content. She was probably watching over Sheldon too, just like I was, but on the other side.

Yes.

As Sheldon ordered the first round, I knew it was time. I had to tell her.

“Crap. I gave him the wrong card.” She held her room card. “Shit. He has my credit card. I don’t want him to use that.”

“I’ll grab it. Hold on.”

See? Protecting her. That’s what I was doing.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

SHELDON

“Marcus and I were friends.”

The words were spoken casually. Mena was applying tanning lotion on her arms beside me, at the hotel’s pool. No one was paying attention to us. It was nice. For once, I felt normal. For once, I felt like everyone else. For once, I let myself breathe. Things would be fine.

Then Mena spoke, and I frowned. A little girl ran giggling past me. Her mother was fast on her heels and she swept her baby up, saying, “Oh, you. You think you’re such a little sprinter, don’t you?” There was a mixture of relief and amusement in her voice.

For some reason, that made me smile. I didn’t know why, but I would remember this moment, years later, and wonder why that detail stuck out to me.