Page 17 of The Sweetest Revenge

CHAPTER9

ZAIDEN

Watching Ariella squirm in front of her mother to my touch was not just intoxicating. It was addictive. A high that I was already craving another hit of, and it was more distracting than it should have been.

"Did you hear me?" Sterling stepped in front of me, blocking my path as we entered the parking garage. His eyebrows arched the way they did when he thought I was being difficult.

I could hear him; I just wasn't listening. I shook my head. "Are you going to Trey's place tonight?"

It was Friday night, and Trey, Westbrook Predator's left wing, was hosting a party, but I knew Ariella wouldn't be there. She wouldn't have been invited because she belonged to the football team. She would be wherever they were, which wasn't happening. If my sister couldn't be there to party with the team because of her, then she wasn't going to either.

"No." I avoided his eyes. "I have plans."

"You have plans?" Sterling folded his arms across his chest. "Do these plans have anything to do with Ariella?"

I fixed him with a hard stare. "Don't start with me."

"Come on, man," he groaned. "Don't let this turn into an obsession. Forget about her and come party with us tonight." The corners of his lips curled up. "Lauren Taylor is coming." Lauren, also known as the ice princess, was one of Westbrook's best figure skaters. She was high maintenance but incredibly fucking hot, and the best part was that she played hard to get for everyone but me. She was always a sure thing. "A round or two with Lauren, and you'll feel better."

I rolled my eyes. He was patronizing me, but maybe he was right. Watching Ariella come had me all worked up and not thinking clearly. "Maybe—" my words trailed off when a flash of movement from the opposite end of the garage caught my attention. My gaze shifted to see Ariella walking through the dark parking garage by herself without the protection of her team. My lips twitched with excitement. Who needed Lauren when I could force Ariella to her knees on the dirty ground next to her car?

Sterling spotted Ariella and gripped my shoulder. "Come on, Zaid. Let her go, and let's go have some fun."

I nodded mechanically, but my attention had already locked onto Ariella, tracking her movement through the garage like a predator.

She wore tight black leggings and a black sports bra under her old black, red, and white high school dance jersey. She turned down a row of cars, and I gritted my teeth. It wasn't her jersey, it was Kacie's.

Fuck that.

"I'll meet you at the party," I growled. My entire body language changed. I was pissed. Where did she get my sister's jersey from? And actually, that didn't even matter. She had no right to wear that jersey when it was her fault my sister was dead.

I stormed forward, following her to her car. Anger radiated off me. If she knew I was behind her, she didn't let it show. Her pace was slow as she loosely jingled her keys at her side. I stepped up behind her, quickly snatching the keys out of her hand as she stopped in front of her car.

She spun around, keys vanishing from her grasp. "What the—" The words died in her throat when she saw me.

I curled my fingers around her bare upper arm, the warmth of her skin a sharp contrast to the cold purpose in my grip.

"Let me go." She pulled against my hold, each tug stoking something dark inside me.

"Zaiden!"

"Get in the car," I snarled, releasing her arm and jerking the passenger side door open. She didn't move. "Get in the fucking car." She flinched as my command came out in angry, violent waves. Her face twisted with confusion, like she didn't understand why I was so angry, which only made me angrier. "Get in the fucking car, or I'll put you in the trunk."

"Okay." A muscle twitched in her jaw as she dropped into the seat, her movements stiff with defiance.

I slammed the door hard enough to rock the car, circled to the driver's side, and slid behind the wheel. The interior suddenly felt too small for the anger radiating off me.

"Where are we going?" She adjusted her seatbelt, forcing casualness into her voice.

I kept my eyes on the road, my knuckles whitening on the steering wheel. During our drive, she repeated her question two more times, each attempt weaker than the last, until she finally surrendered to the weight of my silence.

She leaned forward, eyes widening as I swerved into Westbrook Memorial Cemetery. "What are we doing here?" I didn't answer as I drove down the dark, narrow path. The cemetery closed after dark, but the gates had been broken for years, and the city was too cheap to fix them. "Zaiden, what are we doing here?"

I pulled to a stop a few feet away from Kacie's grave. Other than the headlights of Ariella's car, it was pitch black.

"Get out."

"No," she said, bearing down and crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm not getting out."

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