Page 23 of Swallow Your Sorries

“Or that cunt Rin,” Bae chimes in.

Hale contemplates it for a minute but doesn’t deny it either.

“Because pussy is his type,” Zedd says in irritation, before turning on Hale. “Look, you’ve got your pick of the entire town, but Stassi’s off the list. Don’t ask about her. Don’t watch her status. Don’t even think about her. She doesn’t exist for you.”

Hale says nothing, but his expression darkens.

“I’ll see you at the academy, yeah?” Zedd says to us before turning back to Hale. “Lose Stassi’s number before then.”

Then he stalks out.

“What?” Hale says a minute later, breaking the silence. “We’re all friends, mates, the five bloody horsemen. What’s the big deal?”

“Do you have Ari’s pin?” Étienne asks, his normally blue-green eyes so dark now that they appear almost black.

It doesn’t feel like much of a question.

Hale’s mouth curves into an O, but no sound comes out.

“You don’t anymore,” Étienne warns, shoving his phone, and then his fists into his pockets before turning away smoothly and disappearing into the crowd.

“See you tomorrow, bestie. Don’t worry about us, okay? Tell Zedd we’ll find a ride back safely and that we’ll guard our drinks and go to the bathroom in a group. I’ll send you a text as soon as I get home, so you don’t stress about my well-being after ditching me in a seedy nightclub!” Bae waves at his back before addressing us. “Geez, they’re pissy princesses tonight. Do you really think Zedd won’t see us until the academy? That’s almost three weeks away.”

“Right? Why is everyone so fucking touchy?” Hale says, staring at the empty spot Étienne just vacated. “This is supposed to be my big moment. My pre-opening, a celebration, and everyone’s sour as fuck. You too, Gant.”

I don’t feel sour.

I don’t feelanythingat all.

Not unless I’m in a car anyway.

“Maybe that’s because the anniversary is coming up, fucktard,” Bae says, and Hale suddenly looks sheepish. “Seriously, are you okay, Gant?”

The care in his tone flips a switch inside of me.

“I saidI’m fine.” I bite back.

“He’ll be fine with a little therapy and medication.” Hale grins wickedly, gesturing us to follow him to a back room. “And now that the sourpusses have left, there’s more pussy and doses for us.”

Bae matches Hale’s devious expression. “Doses of what?”

“His pick.” Hale opens the door to the dark parlour and four options are sitting on the coffee table and lounging on the couches.

Alcohol, pills, smoke, and, of course, pussy.

Young pussy with long red hair and a heavy set of tits on full display.

How the fuck does he know?

How does he know that I want to kill, devour, and break her in every way humanly possible?

How does he know that after replaying and studying the dance studio’s footage a trillion times for my father and his minions to prove my innocence, I’d developed more than just hatred?

I’d developed an erotic loathing and longing.

A consumption that was everything Eloisa Ginhart.

“Or don’t pick at all,” Hale coos in my ear, his hand clamping around my shoulder. “Just don’t overdose. The paperwork will be insane.”

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