Page 64 of Chaos Kills

I’m through the double-set doors and across the parking lot when I feel it.

A sudden cold chill that runs down my body as I slowly glimpse over my shoulder. My palm hovers over the handle of my car door, telling me to just rip it open.

I do.

I definitely do when I see Torin Wildes standing by the trunk of my car and staring at me like he just lost his fucking puppy.

Maybe I’ll just accidentally throw my car in reverse and hit his ass.

“Wildfire,” he calls out, sending a ripple effect of pain coursing through me. It’s not physical, all mental. All caused by how quickly he flipped the script and turned on me.

I’m about to sit in my car, when his large hand wraps around my bicep and turns me to face him. Spine pinned against the cool metal of my car. His warmth suffocates me into remembering how it felt when he wanted to be around me all the time.

Touching me, kissing me, the words he said that don’t even matter anymore.

“Get the fuck away from me, Wildes,” I snap, ripping my arm from his grasp and shoving him back a step.

I don’t bother peering up at him.

My eyes will only latch onto his chest because the first option would mean I’d have to fall again, and I don’t want to do that.

“Look at me.”

“Go fuck yourself.” I move again to get back inside my car, but he’s quick to block me, sandwiching his body between mine and the door again.

“We need to talk.”

I scoff, thinking about going to the other side of my car to get the fuck in. “We don’t.”

“We do.”

His tone dips, and I bat away the annoying flutters in my stomach. I can smell the sweet malty smell of liquor on his body, hinting that he’s been drinking again.

However, I will not fall for his shit. His actively seeking me out screams red flags all damn day long.

“I need you…to look at me.”

“For what?” I do exactly what he says without meaning to. Those tawny browns immediately seize me into a small episode of panic.

Oh, no. I’m not going backward.

No.

He studies me, searching for something he needs while I lose myself in his face. Those perfect cuts and edges where a light brush of facial hair starts to grow. Those full lips that set in a fine line because this isn’t ideal.

Us—we’re not ideal.

Maybe we were the two stupidest out of the group to attempt anything.

At least Cairo stayed the fuck away. Torin and I knew what we were getting ourselves into, but we kept moving forward. We ignored all the warning signs for a while and took what we wanted, consequences be damned.

And they damned me alright.

They tore through my whole family, my life. They made me feel hopeless and forged a marriage I don’t want to be in with a man I don’t know and a sperm donor who I don’t want to deal with.

My instincts screamed for me to stay away from Torin Wildes, and I still progressed when I should’ve given every single fuck.

“I miss you.”

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