Page 78 of Soulless Deeds

Taking the threat for what it was, Alexander spared one last longing glance towards his new lover and hightailed it out of there.

As soon as he was out of sight, Remi shoved me back. “Why’d you offer me up like that? I can’t—his father—he’s an Oakview, for fuck’s sake!”

Rapid-fast, my hand braced his throat, cutting off his airway. “I don’t care if you’ve fucked his daddy. Hell, I don’t even care that you killed him. All I care about is Spencer, and you’re fucking playing her. That’s not something you do to someone you love.” I finished by pushing him back into the seat.

Remi appeared shaken, but the high of his drugs must have peaked as he began to laugh. Not a little nervous chuckle, either—he legitimately curled over in a cackle of uncontrollable giggles. The mocking strain pushed me over the edge.

I punched him in the face…multiple times. I didn’t know the exact number, but it was enough to leave me breathless. Remi didn’t fight back. He just laid there, and took my assault as payment. I didn’t like the sensation, my fists pounding into what felt like softened meat that was already dead.

Once I sobered, Remi stared up at me with his battered face and cut lip. Without missing a beat, he spat blood at my shoes. “And what do you know of love, Echo?”

There it was—that four-letter word again. Haunting me, fucking chasing me into oblivion, where I wanted to escape.

Despite my inner turmoil, Remi continued, shattering each piece of me with each scathing word. “The only love you’ve ever felt in your measly existence, you stomped down, stuck a knife in its heart and watched the blood pour out of the wound until that love didn’t exist at all.” Remi stood (a little shakily), leaning into my face, never deviating his attention. “How does it feel to know that, despite your best efforts to destroy it, thatloveended up on your doorstep?”

His truths caused pain to ricochet through my body, and my hand unintentionally raised to tighten over his windpipe so I didn’t have to hear more.

Instead, I taped that down and gave him some truth in return. “She trusts you. She lovesyou,” I managed to splutter, the words a brand, burning up my throat.

“Yes, she loves me. But not the way I love her,” he spat, the words vicious and raw. He slumped as if defeated, completely crushed.

I was stumped, unable to fathom the inkling of warmth that sparked to life inside me. Then, it hit me…He looks like me.Fucking miserable.

Remi shuffled past, gearing for the exit. “You don’t deserve her. You never will deserve her. But can you at least stop being a pathetic asshole and fucking try?!”

The image of them kissing flashed in my mind. That wasn’t fake; their connection was genuine. Overcome, I submitted defeat. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you… Like she’d do anything to have you.”

“Only because you haven’t caught her looking back atyou,” Remi said, with a specific melancholy tone. Before he could turn the last corner, he gave me one last glance, his defeated expression transforming into one of pity. Pity for me.

SPENCER

Emerson and I had ventured into the downer section, lazing behind a deserted bar. My legs swung free from the high stool as I popped a lollipop in my mouth, hoping the sugar would give me enough energy to last a bit longer. The fight had chased the high from my system, a headache brewing as I came down from the drugs and adrenalin.

Emerson sat beside me, trying and failing to pour herself another drink. She missed—again. Alcohol was my ammo, not hers, inebriation taking her unawares. Two drinks down, and she was a blubbering mess, proven by her useless attempts to fight alongside us earlier.

Watching her spill another glass, I finally took pity on my lightweight sister and swiped the bottle from her hand, declaring my verdict.

“That’s enough for you, Meek.”

Emerson pouted, her hazy blue eyes bright against the crimson droplets that stained her face and hair. The fake blood from the midnight spray of the DJ and the real blood from our victims—soaking us all in glowing red. She looked like a deranged horror girl and I was here for it, her image finally fitting her persona.

Her head kept on bobbing around, gaze shifting as if trying to catch something she couldn’t see, her brows pinching together.

“Don’t hate me,” she said, barely loud enough to hear.

“As if that’s possible.I know you.”

“You don’t know me.” She shook her head, rubbing her sternum, which was a nervous tell. One I hadn’t seen her do for years.

The subconscious motion began when she refused the Sovereign tattoo on her sixteenth birthday. I’m sure it had something to do with our dad, but the one time I asked, Emerson lost her absolute shit. So, I never mentioned it again.

We all had our own issues, our own trauma to overcome or lock away into a metal box, never to be seen again. Either way, I was a product of my fucked up past, just like the rest. We all just wanted to survive.

All of a sudden, I desperately wished Micah was there. She was the one good withfeelings.Sure, not her own, but she at least had a handle on others’.

Chucking my lollipop to the side, I inhaled deeply and took a chance. “You ever going to tell us why you still refuse to get the crown tattoo?”

Quiet. Then, her angelic voice gave me an answer. “Dad thought I wasn’t worthy.”

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