“Call it a celebration. You’re supposed to be dead. Though, for a while there, I guess it could have been mourning my shot at killing you myself.”
The fuck?
“I … I don’t even know how to respond to that,” I tell her, searching her face for any sign that this is some kind of twisted joke. “Are you fucking serious right now or are you just epically unhinged?”
“You have some fucking nerve speaking to me like that,” she growls, stepping forward and dragging the blanket along with her—a blanket that I hope she takes with her when her bitch ass is kicked out the door. Otherwise, I’m going to have to burn it. “You’ve put me through hell. You publicly humiliated me, you rejected and then assaulted me.”
Cruz laughs, knowing exactly where this is about to go as Carver seems to silently shake in rage on my other side.
“I assaulted you?” I spit, skipping right over the whole ‘you’re supposed to be dead’ thing. I have priorities, and right now, this one takes the cake. But don’t be fooled, unless one of the guys beats me to it, I’ll be circling right back to that shit. “You got a little fucking punch to the face, I got fucking raped by an unhinged psychopath in the back of a closet during a fucking party.”
Sara’s eyes widen just a fraction. “I …”
I scoff, shaking my head, unable to mask the irritation and disgust pulsing through me. “What’s the matter? Shocked that I remember, or shitting your pants because I know what you did to me?”
She shakes her head. “You’re a liar, Winter. Always have been. I didn’t do anything that you weren’t begging me for.”
Cruz flinches at my side, more than ready to take this bitch out, but I place my hand against his strong arm, silently urging him to find control. There’s still so much ground for us to cover and I don’t want him scaring her away before we have the chance to really fuck her up.
I take a deep breath, and as I exhale, I attempt to regain my control. I step around King, putting myself right in front of Sara and hating the way the boys step with me, not trusting me or not trusting her, either way, it doesn’t sit well with me. When dealing with a guy who can easily overpower me, I get it, but this? This bullshit is all mine. “How the fuck did you get into my house?”
Sara’s eyes widen, and as I continue toward her, she starts to back up, realizing that right now, she’s not the only crazy, unhinged bitch in the room. “I … I … I just know it. The code … It’s been the same every time that I’ve come here.”
“That’s impossible. It’s been changed a million times over the past few months. You’re lying.”
She shakes her head violently, her gaze snapping back to the boys as if she has even the slightest chance in hell that they’re about to help her. “I swear,” she insists. “Your birthday—0225. Go and try it if you don’t believe me.”
I glance back at Carver who watches Sara with apprehension, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What do you mean every time you’ve come in here?”
My head whips back to Sara. I was so caught up on the code not changing that I’d completely missed that little piece of information.
Sara swallows hard, her guilty expression turning back to me as horror twists across her face, realizing that the more she opens her mouth, the bigger the hole she’s digging becomes. “I didn’t … that’s not what I meant.”
I step into her, and in a flash, throw my hand up and twist it into her hair. I rip her head back and force her stare to mine, letting her see just how quickly my patience is running out. “You have two goddamn seconds to spit it out before I make you.”
“I … fuck. Okay, I come here all the goddamn time. Ever since you humiliated me. I’ve been watching you, keeping tabs on you, just waiting until the moment I can finally strike. Lucky for you, I thought the bastard that stabbed you last night took my shot. Turns out, I'm going to get my chance after all.”
I stumble back a step, sucking in a sharp breath as I release her so quickly that she has to catch herself on the edge of the bed.
King races in, stepping past me and gripping Sara by her chin. He forces her chin up with a quick snap and her eyes widen in fear—not the ‘I just fucked up’ type of fear, but the real, gut-wrenching ‘I’m about to die’ fear. “How the fuck do you know she got stabbed? No one knows that.”
Irritation spreads across Sara’s face. “Do you not listen? All beauty and no fucking brains. How wasteful,” she spits, having the nerve to push his buttons despite his hand wrapped around her chin. “I just told you that I watch her. I watch her all the fucking time. She snuck out of her bed and left Cruz all alone, had a glass of water then sat in her daddy’s office, and when she walked out of the house, I followed her right up the goddamn street. I’m surprised you didn’t see me. You and Cruz ran straight past me when you were chasing that guy.”