Page 71 of Endgame

“Walk away, Six,” he growled. “I’m in no mood for your shit tonight.”

“No!” I snarled. “I won’t. You’re not the only person who lives in this house.”

“I’m the only oneIcare about who lives in this house,” he shot back coolly. “Amelia’s at her friend’s house for the night. You don’t matter.”

His cruel remark drew a giggle from the blonde wrapped around him and I adverted my eyes from his face to hers.

Instantly, I knew who she was.

Britt.

I’d seen her before. I vaguely remembered seeing her smug face that night when Rourke threw me in the pool. This was the girl. The fuck buddy. The queen bitch. The one I lost sleep over.

As I took in her appearance, I knew I would lose many more night’s worth of sleep.

Britt was beautiful. Tall, blonde, blue eyed, and extremely thin with legs that went on for days; basically, everything Iwasn’t.

Anger burned in my veins. At least I told myself it was anger. I would not consider it to be jealousy. I couldn’t afford to.

“What is yourproblem with me?” I screamed then, focusing my unstable emotions on my stepbrother. I couldn’t control myself around him. Rourke brought out a really ugly side in me. A side of me I had no control over.

“Get out of my face, Six,” Rourke warned, glowering down at me. The glazed over look in his eyes, and the smell of alcohol wafting from him, assured me he was, indeed, wasted.

“No.” Folding my arms across my chest, I glared up at him. I was stupid to fight with a drunk Rourke, but I couldn’t help myself. This boy set me on fire. “I’m not going anywhere until you send these people home and clean your damn mess up...”

He kissed her.

Right in front of me, with his eyes open and locked on my face, Rourke resumed his kissing expedition with Britt.

“I’m not done talking to you,” I hissed, shoving his arm once more, and forcing down the abnormal swell of pain in my chest. If I thought I felt pain before, it paled in comparison to the knife Rourke just stabbed in my chest.

Breaking the kiss, Rourke ran a hand through his hair in sheer exasperation. “Why won’t you justleave!”

“Yeah! Why don’t you climb back in the hole you came out of and get the hell out of my boyfriend’s house,” Britt hissed. “No one wants you here. Or your whore of a mother.”

Oh, hell no she did not!

“Don’t,” I whispered shakily, “talk about my mother.”

“Why?” she shot back with a cackle. “It’s the truth and everyone around here knows it.”

“Britt –” That was Rourke. He was trying to interject. I wanted to scratch his eyes out. This washisfault. Everything washisfucking fault.

“Why don’t you jump off your boyfriend’s dick and say that to my face, bitch,” I snarled, feeling the sting of tears in the back of my eyes. I would not cry. I would not give these people the satisfaction.

“Is she for real?” Britt snarled, hopping down from the countertop. “Oh, honey, I’m going to ruin you.” She walked straight up to me, dwarfing me with her impressive height.

She had to be at least five eight or nine. I was barely clocking in at five feet, but I’d be damned if I let that intimidate me. “Not if I ruin you first.”

“Goddamn, Britt,” Rourke’s voice came from close by. “Leave it alone.”

We were causing a scene, people were watching, and I didn’t give a shit. He wasn’t going to treat me like this and she wasn’t going to talk about my mother. Over my dead freaking body.

“Your momma saw a meal ticket in Rourke’s father and trapped him with a baby,” Britt hissed, smirking down at me. “That makes her a whore, and you a whore’s bastard.”

“Fuck you.” Closing my fist, I reared back and socked her in the mouth.

“You little bitch!” Seconds later, I was sprawled out on the kitchen floor with this Britt bitch straddling me. “You’re dead,” she roared as she pulled on my hair and scratched at my face. “Dead!”

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