Page 232 of Chaos Kills

The fuck.

I’d argue, but Cairo does that smirk thing when he knows I could argue, but it’s not going to get me anywhere.

He came over, found the damn cat, and now I’m helping him get my ex out of a party while he’s out fucking everyone and their mom.

“I don’t want to do this,” I mutter honestly, hating the vulnerability that comes easily off my lips. “He can’t stand the sight of me.”

Cairo reaches out and gently brushes his fingers along my jaw. “I promise you things are gonna get fixed. Trust me.”

Trust me.

How easily it falls from his lips. It’s just hard to soak it in and believe him.

“Do I have a choice?”

“No,” he says instantly. “But it’ll just be another way to blow your fucking mind.”

FIFTY-TWO

bay

The residence is biggerthan Emilio’s, and somewhere along the way, I lost Cairo and Levi as we searched high and low for Reeve. I’m beginning to suspect he’s not here anymore, that he left, and it’s time to try something else.

It’s funny how hope can dash through reality and quickly turn into your worst nightmare. One I’ve already had the pleasure of experiencing before, but this time, it’s amped up a bunch.

Actually, too much.

Because when I open up one of the many bedroom doors upstairs, I find Reeve, pounding into a dude on all fours over a mattress.

I hear Reeve’s grunts, the slapping of skin on skin as he thrusts deep and hard into some fucker who got lucky tonight. I almost miss the girl spread wide on the other side, nearly completely blocked by Reeve’s frame with her arm snaking down her stomach.

I can only imagine what she’s doing and that she’s next. That, amongst all this, I caused the outcome of what’s happening.

I destroyed him.

And while I’m the last person he’s going to want to see, I need him out of here.

I want him out of here.

I need him safe and not fucking a rando he found at this party. I long for a simpler time—if you want to call it that—of my surfer boy who had those crystal-clear hazel eyes only for me.

Call it nostalgia, selfishness, or just being plain cruel, but I’ll never stop wanting Reeve Stanton—ever.

Even though the tightness in my chest is close to being unbearable right now, and I feel as though I’m going to throw up all over this gray carpeting…I want to leave.

But I intend for him to come with me.

However, I’d need my throat to function first. It does me no good to stand here and allow this to continue any further but who the fuck am I now?

I’m a no one.

He’s made that perfectly clear, and I have no right to yank him out of here for any reason.

Yet, again, I give no heed to my desires apparently, and Cairo was adamant on hauling him out of here. We’re on a mission—Operation Surfer Boy—and I need to put all my emotions aside to make this happen.

I better start getting used to it.

A large hand falls to the base of my spine, motor oil and weed filling my lungs, and the familiar kinship that I feel for Levi is undeniable. He gives me a sensation of being untouchable—body and somewhat mind—as I continue to watch Reeve clasping onto some fucker’s hips.

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