Page 36 of Corrupt Me

“Just a kiss on the cheek? Come on, Bailey, I deserve more.”

“If you want me, you move at my speed.” I yank my arm away and shut the door behind me.

He rolls the window down. “I’m not fooling around. I want you. You’re safe with me.”

As safe as with a cobra.

I am aware I can’t keep holding him off. Bile rises in my throat at the thought, leaving a putrid taste behind. Finally inside the house, I lean against the wall next to the front door.

Hunter is the first to burst through. He rushes up the stairs, and I call after him.

“Worried about me?”

“Did he do something to you?” he asks, jogging back to me.

“No.” What I don’t say is as clear as if I did.Not yet.I push myself off the wall, and we move to the living room. As he paces around, I sit on the couch.

“You’re not equipped for this type of mission.”

“But you would be, right? Maybe I should just channel you then.”

He comes to an abrupt stop, chest heaving. “This is what you want? A date that means nothing, the enemy kissing you, fucking you?”

No, I don’t want that. But if that’s the only solution, then so be it. I’m definitely braver in my head. My heart clenches as I look at the one I want.

“He’d have my firsts…”

His features harbor a sharpness that could slice diamonds. Whatever he would have said is cut off when our friends stride into the living room.

“Who wants a drink?” Abi asks, and we all groan in agreement. She pours each of us a tumbler of whiskey. Mia puts on some music, and I join them in the middle of the room after I knock my drink back. This has been our outlet when things spiral out of control—being together, drinking, and dancing to let loose. Here, the outside world can’t touch us.

Nothing could except him.

His silver eyes.

His broody nature.

His tempting presence.

He can’t corrupt me. He already did.

I requested a meeting with the matriarch, and here I am in her office. With its immaculately polished hardwood floors, black and gold lights, and a long couch flanked by leather armchairs in the center, the room feels as imposing as she does. Dressed in a black suit and silk blouse, she sits behind a mahogany desk in a velvet high-backed chair and gestures for me to sit across from her.

“Tell me your concerns,” Cassandra says, fully in matriarch mode.

“What Bailey is doing is dangerous.”

She steeples her hands on the desk. “And does the group share your worries?”

They might, but we didn’t vote—I went straight to the highest authority. For me, it’s more about what I will do if someone doesn’t put an end to this madness. I was fine until the fucker barged into my life, adding chaos to an already messy situation. I need to focus on the mission, not stay up every night worrying that one date might go wrong. But Bailey’s too stubborn to end it.

“Ma’am, I don’t even care what the group thinks about this. Just because we’re still alive and know who the enemy is doesn’t give us the advantage we think we might have.”

“I agree,” she says, her features turning pensive. “What you have been through should have never happened.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s our legacy—a still corrupt legacy until we eliminate the last threat.”

I told Cassandra we should kill Caleb and Felix, but no. She insisted on following a moral code, turning my sister into a killer. Now Felix hunts us, and this cat-and-mouse game can only end in blood.

---