Page 180 of Chaos Kills

She leans over me, and I freak, shoving her back so she gets away from me. I don’t want to hurt her, but I can’t have her near me either.

I don’t feel comfortable.

I can’t control the things my body feels when she’s near me. It feels powerful and violent, foreign, and I don’t know how to translate it like the guys do.

All I know is I can keep her safe and not touch me.

When I’m on my haunches, she’s thankfully caught by Cairo, his hands tucked under her arms as he pulls her up to her feet.

However, those clear blues don’t leave me for a second, and I feel stupid and judged in her eyes.

Cairo whispers something along the edge of her ear, probably to tell her how much of a freak I am. How I’m not someone you just keep captured anywhere, against any surface because I’llsnap. And while I expect her to blatantly ignore me, she steps from my brother’s grasp and toward me as I stand.

I study her face. The perfect outline of her cheek and jaw, that bottom lip that I’d like to know how soft it is.

I hold my next inhale as she gets closer, and I squeeze my fisted hands, digging my fingernails into my palms.

“You okay?” she asks me, her voice dipped so that only I can hear her. Now, I feel more inadequate in her eyes because I can’t even have her touch me like the others can. I give her a curt nod and avert my eyes from her, needing something else. To leave. “We’re gonna keep working on that.”

My focus slices back to her as she lifts her hand and extends it. I don’t understand why she’s even here right now.

“You too cool for high-fives, or do I get one?”

What the fuck?

Looking at her long fingers, I tell myself it’ll only be less than a second that we’re touching.

That she’s not going to want more and grab my hand. That she can’t hurt me because I’m not emotionally attached, just strategically for my brothers.

Quickly, I hit her hand and retreat, and she smiles—bright, pretty, and hazardous.

It’s already apparent the boys can’t do without her.

Well, maybe everyone but Cairo.

Even then, he talks a big game, but he makes sure she’s taken care of. Even let her sisters stay with his parents because he didn’t want them in a shitty house with a shady family that wouldn’t take care of them.

“Cairo, babe, we’re late!” That voice slowly sets every single nerve ending in my body on end and stirs up panic in my chest and head.

Jerking my head toward the house where it came from, I start mapping out my escape.

I don’t want to see her.

I can’t.

Not when she hurt me, and her betrayal got me five years in prison because I believed she cared about me.

That’s what she kept saying.

That is what she came to prison to tell me.

“I’m so sorry for what happened, Ozzy.” Her chin tucks into her chest, and I see a single tear fall to her lap. “It’s my fault.”

I shake my head because it was mine for getting caught.

It was mine for being too slow and not finishing it quick and easy like we spoke about.

She was hurt—raped by some football player—and I wanted him to pay for the emotional damage he caused her. How she cried in my chest and was the first person I’ve ever held in my arms without being interrupted.

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