Page 187 of Chaos Kills

My body arrests from movement, only breathing and blinking at his openly given response.

Two fucking years.

There’s never been a time when I felt I was being watched. I never got the eerie feeling or sixth sense of danger lurking in the darkness somewhere.

But he’s not a danger.

Not to you.

Regardless, this shit is textbook stalker. It screams unstable.

A black sweatshirt is thrusted in my direction, and I force myself to meet Ozzy’s face.

“What?”

He points at me, and I notice I’m shivering, and he sees nothing wrong with what he just told me.

Or he doesn’t care.

Or maybe I’m just cold.

And while the gesture is sweet, I don’t think my being here is a good idea anymore. My head is spinning, I don’t know if him being around is safe and Levi is throwing his trust into a family member he hasn’t been around like that.

I don’t fucking know him.

His brothers are capable of shit. His other cousin threw me in the damn Atlantic Ocean. His buddy emotionally ripped me apart while he had other people suck his dick and then fucked me to use my body before throwing me away. How much more do I really need before I call all this off?

This isn’t normal.

I must’ve outgrown South Shore between now and up to a few months ago because the need to run away and never look back is back to being very appealing right now.

I’m still not sure why Ozzy agreed to marry me, other than the fact he probably knows all about me, but was he put there?

“Did Emilio tell you to do that?” I press, holding his dark blues and immediately afraid of the answer. My real father seems to always be two steps ahead of me. And I know I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.

Ozzy shakes his head without needing me to throw another card down, but it does nothing to ease the havoc wreaking through my head.

To protect you.

That’s why he said he married me. Regardless, I don’t buy it.

I can’t.

No one just does that shit. Obviously, I’ve grown not to trust anyone who’s not within my immediate circle. I mean, look what just happened to me. I may have broken up with two dudes, but normally, you move on not murder them.

Well, you murdered his brother.

It always comes back to that. Always Torin.

Always Pretty Boy.

I haven’t allowed myself to think of him. I keep my mind busy. I pop melatonin at night just to make myself tired enough to where I have no choice but to shut down.

I can’t even get started on Reeve, either.

If I do, I’m never getting out of this completely unscathed. I won’t accept the fact I’m emotionally in turmoil. If I do, I’ll never let them go. I have to treat them like I did Matteo when I left him.

They don’t exist.

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