Page 69 of Sin Like the Devil

“Tell me. Have the innocents you’ve hurt allowed you to survive?”

This time, my words find their mark and she recoils. Her mouth opens and shuts several times, but nothing comes out. Not a single line of defence.

“Are you sorry, Ripley?”

“Why do you care?”

“Answer the damn question.”

Shuffling my feet, I have no clue why I’m doing this. I have the perfect opportunity to choke the stubborn bitch to death without a single person witnessing it.

But seeing the broken, pissed-off, beautiful fucking disaster I’ve created, I need to know the truth. Does she feel the same bottomless pit of despair where her heart used to be that I do? Does it drive her to the brink of insanity, knowing she’s irredeemable?

Her face contorts, riddled with so much pain, I don’t know whether to relish in it or take the question back. The latter option shocks the shit out of me. Since when do I give a fuck about her pain?

“Yes,” she admits. “Every day.”

“Then you’re a better person than me.”

“I know exactly what kind of person you are.” Ripley slowly clambers to her feet, her sweats soaked and mud stained. “Holly was my friend. My family. You took that from me, and all for what? Power?”

“Power. Protection. Control.” I shrug dismissively. “All the things you’re looking for too.”

Her small, paint-flecked hands scrunch into fists. “Then when I tie the noose around your neck and make it look like a suicide, you’ll understand why I will never, ever be sorry either.”

Stopping in front of me, she’s a small but fearsome dot beneath my towering height. Raindrops cling to her eyelashes, framing tear-filled, mottled eyes that brim with such fury, it’s formidable. I’ve never seen anger like it beyond my own.

I want her to hate me.

I want to feel every drop of her wrath.

The rage that found its home within me the day I lost Daisy has never found a fair competitor. Anger is a lonely road to madness, and staring at Ripley now, I know she’s trodden that same path. We both have.

“What do you really want?” she deadpans. “Because if you think I’m going to break like Holly did, you’re in for a long wait.”

Head cocked, I consider her. Every steely, unterrified inch. She saw the very worst in us, the depths that we will sink to in order to achieve our goals, yet she’s still standing. If Holly’s death didn’t kill her, nothing will.

“I know you won’t break.”

She rears her head back in surprise. “Why?”

“Because you’re stronger than she ever was.” I scan over her features, loathing the way I want to trace each dimple. “That’s why I fucking hate you.”

“I really don’t understand you.”

“Why aren’t you broken like the rest of us? Why did you walk away unscathed when we didn’t?”

“Unscathed?” Ripley repeats incredulously. “Do I look bloody unscathed to you?”

“I just had to confiscate a kilo of drugs from one of my best friends!” I explode. “I don’t even recognise the other one these days, he’s so far gone. Yet here you are, enjoying your luxurious life.”

The more I speak, the more her outrage grows. Her face is practically shadowed with it—twisting, contorting, brows scrunched and gaze seething. I love it. So goddamn much. I want her to be as angry as I am.

“Nothing about Harrowdean is a luxury!” she shouts.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“You son of a…”

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