Page 107 of Liars

I didn’t try to ask what happened. Didn’t push for details.

I let him be.

He drove too fast, burning his rage on the empty roads. The city lights blurred as he pushed the speedometer higher, the world outside turning into a streak of neon and darkness. Still, I said nothing, doing my best to stay calm and pretend I wasn’t more than a little afraid he might lose control or we might get pulled over by the cops.

I hadn’t intended to eavesdrop when I left the kitchen, but my feet stopped moving, and I had pressed against the wall, listening. I heard the way Donovan talked to his son. I heard him order Kreed to leave me alone and end things between us. Not that there was anything to end. Kreed and I weren’t an item, and I had no delusions we were headed that way, but knowing Donovan disapproved bothered me.

Was I not good enough for his son?

What was his reason for protesting so deeply against a relationship between Kreed and me?

Minutes passed in charged silence. The car cut through the morning fog, headlights slicing across the empty road. Kreed’s grip on the steering wheel was rigid, his knuckles white, his jaw clenched so tight it could crack. Fury radiated off him in waves, palpable, suffocating, his whole body wound like a ticking bomb.

He wasn’t just angry. He was looking for a fight.

A way to bleed out whatever storm was thrashing inside him.

I could feel the danger in the air and the quiet violence in the way he exhaled through his nose while his fingers clutched around the leather wheel. I should’ve left it alone. But I couldn’t.

I wouldn’t.

“Pull over,” I said, my voice steady.

Nothing. He ignored me, his gaze fixed ahead like he hadn’t heard me at all.

“Kreed.” I deliberately said his name. It seemed the only way to get his focus on me. “Pull over,” I insisted.

His jaw ticked, but after a tense beat, he wrenched the car to the side of the road, tires screeching, the force shoving me forward. My seat belt bit into my chest, but I barely noticed.

Kreed never drove like this. He was smooth. Precise. Controlled.

Not now.

The rough handling only confirmed what I already knew.

He was pissed.

He was losing it. And I was losing him to whatever fire was burning through his veins.

I unbuckled my seat belt, shifting toward him. A terrible idea, maybe the worst I’d ever had—but it clawed at me, this need to break through to him, to pull him from the edge before he let it consume him.

It just felt…right.

Kreed turned his head, his eyes flashing, dangerous and raw. “This is a bad idea,” he warned.

I held his gaze, unshaken. “Shut up.” Then I leaned in and kissed him. Not because I wanted to defy his father. Not because I was supposed to stay away.

Because he needed this.

He didn’t react right away—but then he snarled, low and frayed at the edges, and broke. His hands tangled in my hair, dragging me closer, his mouth crushing against mine with desperation. There was nothing sweet or careful, just fire, frustration, and something deeper I couldn’t name.

Like he needed me to breathe.

The air between us turned molten. My heart pounded against my ribs, my fingers fisting his hoodie as he kissed me harder as if trying to steal every last ounce of oxygen from my lungs.

I pulled away just enough to murmur against his lips, breathless, “Better?”

His eyes were dark, his pupils blown. “Marginally.”

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