Page 62 of Wicked Nasty

My mind races with a million questions and possibilities as I step out of my car and make my way towards the front door, my heart pounding in anticipation.

My feet carry me towards Becca's bedroom, a small flicker of hope pushing me forward.

What if she's finally returned?

I come to a halt in the hallway, feeling a wave of emotions crash over me.

Will she just leave again? What if she found Katya after all this time?

Anger begins to bubble up inside me.

She abandoned you, Danny. Left you without a second thought. She's only using you.

Shaking my head, I reach for the doorknob and cautiously enter Becca's room. The air feels heavy and stagnant, like it's been trapped in here for years. Yet, it’s only been a week.

As I raise my gaze, I am met with the sight of Becca sitting in the center of her bed. Her once bright eyes now appear dull and tired, weighed down by heavy bags that have taken residence underneath them.

She looks so different from before. Thin and frail, her skin lacking its usual healthy glow. It's as if she has been hollowed out, leaving behind only a shell of who she once was. Broken and defeated, Becca sits there like a wounded butterfly waiting to be healed.

My words catch in my throat as our eyes meet, the weight of unresolved feelings between us heavy in the air.

"Hello, Danny," she whispers.

But anger quickly takes hold of me.

"Why the fuck are you here?" I demand, my voice trembling with emotion.

She meets my gaze, her own eyes holding a mix of determination and vulnerability that I can't quite place. "We need to talk.”

Without another word, I turn on my heel and stalk into my bedroom, slamming the door behind me.

How fucking dare she?

Becca thinks she can just waltz back into this home and demand that we have a conversation? My mind reels with feelings shallowly buried, but I refuse to let her see any of it. Not this time. Not ever.

The door to my room creaks open and Becca steps inside, her expression grave. The air immediately thickens with tension as she speaks.

"We need to talk, Danny."

I sneer, my anger boiling over as I storm towards her. She instinctively backs until her back hits the wall, but her eyes never leave mine. We are now face to face, our breaths mingling in the small space between us.

"There is nothing to talk about,Rebecca," I spit out her name like a curse.

But she doesn't back down. Instead, she stands her ground and moves closer until we are practically nose to nose.

"Yes, we do, Daniel," she asserts firmly, her gaze unwavering.

“No, we don’t! Get the fuck out of my face!”

I shove her away, my frustration boiling over. I turn my back to her, trying to control my anger.

But Becca's voice cuts through my rage, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t find her…”

I slowly turn to face her, seeing the defeated look in her eyes. Her shoulders are slumped and there's a palpable sense of failure coming from her.

My anger rises like a storm within me. I stalk toward her, my steps heavy and purposeful. As I close in, I watch as her eyes fill with fear, mixed with determination and anger. But beneath it all, there's a hint of something else... something vulnerable.

With one swift motion, I wrap my fingers around her throat, exerting just enough pressure to show her who's in control. Her body tenses and her breath quickens, but still she meets my gaze defiantly.

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