Page 66 of Soulless Deeds

His features contorted with a multitude of emotions—affection, longing, apprehension, distress, then panic before his expression hardened into a mask of unrelenting steel.

“You trapped me into this,” he said, and I scoffed, rolling my eyes.Here we go.“Don’t give me that smartass attitude, Spencer!”

Echo paced, ripping at his hair, and I couldn’t help but snicker at his expense. “You’re too weak to admit what you want.”

He stopped frozen, hazel eyes bulging out of their sockets. “You never gave me a fucking choice! Wantthis?”he asked, pointing at me.“I don’t even want you.”

It was a lie. A well-built illusion he told himself in order to keep his barriers secure and in place. But in his desperation to save himself, his cruel intentions hit their mark. Each syllable cut into me as if I was dealt with tangible strikes that left me battered and bruised.

Still, he wasn’t finished, always ready to make that final blow.

Echo opened his mouth one more time, nailing me with his scathing venom. “I’m taking responsibility for my mistakes like I wasorderedto.”

I snapped. Bypassing the sad existence of a man, I stormed into the kitchen, leaving bloody footprints in my wake. I’d barely registered my missing bedroom walls, the jagged pieces of frosted glass piercing my feet.

With the current rage taking over my body, that was the least of my worries. I’d endured worse—especially from him.

Continuing with my outburst, I collected three knives sitting cosy in their wooden block.

Bout time you were put to good use.

Echo stalked after me. He should have known better than to follow. Without looking at my target, I pivoted fast, the blade releasing from my palm with accurate precision. Echo dodged just in time, the edge slicing across his bicep rather than imbedding into his chest.

I huffed, red hair floating in front of my face.

Echo swiped a hand over the gash, skin stained with blood. “You’re one crazy fucking bitc?—”

Before he could finish the statement, I launched another knife his way, this one aimed for his dick. Echo was livid, features turned rabid as he jolted over the bench to restrain me, the blade barely missing his hardening length.Which I am happy to remove.

I laughed at his foolish attempt and skirted out of reach, flipping him my middle finger. Spinning my last knife in my hand, I arched a mocking brow. “Who is she?”

“Who?”

“This girl who has you in a chokehold. Let me think, it starts with a?—"

“Don’t say her fucking name.” Echo flinched, trying and failing to regain his composure.

“Tell me who she is.”

He raised a fierce finger, pointing at me in an aggressive fashion. But before he could advance, I slashed downward, a deep laceration carving across his palm.

“FUCKKKKK!”Echo roared.

I smirked. “Point that finger at me again, and you’ll lose it.” Echo’s face reddened, speckles of ruby red staining his trembling form as the multiple cuts continued to leak. “As long as you giveherpower, we can never move forward. I’m not going to stay with someone who’s hung up on an ex.”

His features turned grotesque, giving me his hateful eyes. “Aster had no right to tell you about Camilla. About my fucking business.”

Camilla? Fuck her.

“She didn’t have to. You emotionally damaged fucking man-child! When are you going to get it through your thick fucking skull?!” I seethed, raising the point of the knife to tap against my temple. “Your businessismy business… And if I find out who this Camilla bitch is,I’ll kill her.”

Echo remained dumbstruck as I stalked him, twirling the blade until it was aimed directly centre of his sternum. “I don’t give a fuck who she is. I swear, I’ll kill her—like you tried killing me, by stabbing her in the fucking heart—all for what she’s doing to us.”

Echo came out of his inanimate state with a jolt. “Us? You think there’s anus? Playing house and acting like we’re some fake happy couple when we fucking hate each other?”

My insides crumbled from his scathing words, as brutal and savage as physical blows. Stepping back, I retreated, putting as much space between us as possible—which wasn’t much, my legs hitting the bench behind me.

“Can you be real?” I asked. “Real for one miserable fucking second. Are you even sorry for what you did to me?” My tone displayed the vulnerability that had me overtaken—an emotion completely unfamiliar and alien. I loathed the weakness he sought out of me.

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