Page 3 of The Sweetest Revenge

"What the fuck are you doing in Kacie's room?"

The muscle beneath his left eye twitched. I stepped back, my heel catching on the edge of the rug. The words formed in my mind, it's my room now, but my throat constricted, holding them hostage. How could I say those words out loud when I barely believed them myself?

He stepped forward. The floorboards groaned beneath his weight, and the distance between us shrank. I caught the scent of his cologne as he moved closer.

"Where are her things?"

I shook my head because it was all I was capable of doing. They hadn't told him they had discarded her things.

"No, what?" He took one step forward, then another. I could see the muscle in his jaw twitching, the storm gathering in his eyes. I backed away, calculating the distance to the door, knowing I'd never make it. My calf hit the bed frame, and I tumbled backward onto the mattress.

"Zaiden." His name escaped my lips as a whisper, a plea, a prayer.

"Don't," he growled. "Get the fuck out of my sister's room."

"I—"

His fingers curled around my arms, digging into flesh. For a heartbeat, we were frozen, his grip tightening, my pulse racing beneath his touch.

"Get the fuck out of my house."

Time seemed to stretch and distort. The rational part of my brain screamed to stay quiet, to simply leave. Yet something deeper, something reckless, pushed his name up my throat.

"Zaiden—" The word escaped as a broken whisper.

His expression darkened. In one fluid motion, he twisted me from the bed. The world spun—ceiling, wall, door frame blurring together—before he shoved me into the hallway.

His face lowered until we were eye to eye, his breath hot against my cheek. His chest pressed against mine, each inhale pushing me further into the wooden handrail. The spindles creaked behind me.

"If you say my name again, I'll hurl you over this banister."

My heart stuttered. The drop behind me suddenly seemed vast, dizzying. My gaze flicked downward to the first floor, the hardwood far below swimming in my vision. My fingers found the edge of the railing and gripped until my knuckles whitened.

Would he actually do it? The rage in his eyes suggested he might.

I swallowed hard, my voice emerging thin and unsteady. "Please let me explain."

"Explain what, Ariella?" His lip curled into a snarl. "How you got my sister killed? Or how you've moved in like you think you're going to replace her."

I shook my head. "No. I would never?—"

"Get the fuck out," he roared, but his grip on me only tightened. Each finger dug deeper into my skin.

"Zaiden—" I whispered, immediately regretting the sound.

His breathing stopped.

"What the fuck did I tell you?" The words came out eerily calm now. Then movement, swift, calculated. He spun me around in one fluid motion that left me breathless. My back pressed against his front, the cold wooden banister digging into my hips, his body a wall behind me. His hand found my wet hair, tangled in it, and then slowly, he pushed me forward until my upper body hung over the rail, nothing but his grip keeping me from falling.

"Please," I pleaded, scrambling to reach back for the railing to catch my fall if he decided to let me go.

He jerked me back by my hair.

I cried out, pain shooting across my scalp.

"Please, what?" His voice was deceptively soft.

The pressure on my hips released. A fleeting moment of relief. He was stopping. He was coming to his senses.

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