Page 23 of Pastel Kisses

Pain explodes across my cheek, my head snapping to the side.

“OW! What the fuck?!” I yell, clutching my face as I stagger back but then begin to advance.

Sarah stumbles, caught off guard by my quick recovery.

She wasn’t expecting me tofight back.

But then she’s pulling the black metal pipe from behind her, eyes flashing with wild fury.

I barely have time to react before she kicks me, swiping my unsteady legs out from under me.

Pain lances through my ribs as I hit the ground hard, my chain rattling, cutting into my skin.

I curl into myself, protecting my ribs from another blow.

Sarah flicks her hair from her face, exhaling sharply.

“Oh,nowyou react?” she scoffs, voice dripping with mockery.

I bite my tongue, swallowing the acidic words burning the back of my throat.

Not yet.

Not yet.

Let her think she’s winning.

Let her think I’m weak.

Because when the time comes?

I’ll make herfuckingregret it.

“Sorry,” Sarah drawls, her lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout of mock sympathy. “I had a bad day. Jaxton didn’t want to…”

She pauses, eyes flickering over me as if debating how much to say. Then, just as quickly, she redirects, her tone shifting back into forced cheerfulness. “Jaxton and I had agreatday.”

She’s lying.

“We were together all day,” she continues, voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “There was a lot of heavy petting, but I’m making himwait, just to prove how much I care and sympathize with what he’s going through.”

My stomach knots at the words, but I force my expression to remain blank, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

“The others will fall in line if one of them does,” she prattles on. “And Jax hasalwaysbeen the weak link.”

I tune her out as she delves into more fabricated details, spinning an intricate web of half-truths and blatant lies. She laces just enough realism into the story to make it believable, but I know Jaxton. Iknowmy guys.

Still, the mental images she paints crawl under my skin like poison.

I grit my teeth, focusing on keeping my breathing steady, but she notices the moment my attention shifts.

Lightning fast, the metal bar she’s holding whistles through the air.

Pain detonates across my skull, sharp and blinding, forcing a strangled cry from my lips. My hands fly up instinctively, cradling the burning wound as white-hot agony pulses in my head, radiating outward in dizzying waves.

The pain only intensifies when my fingers come away slick and wet.

Blood.

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