Page 71 of North

His smirk was slow, dangerous. “I’ll take that as a no.”

I hated him. I hated him for knowing me too well, for seeing through every carefully constructed wall I tried to put between us. But most of all, I hated myself for letting him in. Because I knew exactly what would happen next. I would let him destroy me all over again.

Epilogue

Summer

Music pumped through the house, pulsing in my veins. I felt sick.

North was busy with Quinn. I already knew what would happen when he left the room with her, and I just stood there, drink in hand, nails digging into my palm. She was the only friend I had.

Could I really call her a friend though, after what I was doing? I knew exactly what tonight was supposed to be. I knew Quinn wasn’t just some girl they wanted to fuck and forget. She was their payback for what happened to Aiden, their twisted sense of justice wrapped up in soft skin and tragic hazel eyes.

I played my part. It was too late to regret it, and in all honesty, I should have felt victorious. Vindicated. Instead, my stomach twisted, my throat burned, and all I could do was watch the people around me while I waited for North to come out.

But, like always, the trajectory of my gaze changed and soon I was watching him again.

Connor.

He was leaning against a wall outside, his drink dangling from his fingers. I doubt he came out here to get a breath of fresh air like I had. His expression was cold. Detached. Like none of this mattered.

Like she didn’t matter.

Like I didn’t matter.

A familiar, bitter resentment curled in my chest, but I swallowed it down and made my way to him, the gravel crunching softly beneath my heels.

Connor didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge me until I was right there, close enough to smell the whiskey on his breath.

“Why so serious, Summer?” His voice was lazy, amused, but there was something sharp underneath. Something cutting. He flicked his gaze toward me, unreadable. “Feeling guilty for playing both sides?”

I flinched. Bastard.

I lifted my chin, forcing a smirk. “You’re deflecting. Classic Connor.”

He laughed, low and smooth. “And you’re pretending. Classic Summer.”

I hated how much I loved the way my name sounded on his tongue. I hated that I still loved him, even after everything he’d done to me.

Connor took a step closer, his scent—whiskey, cedar, and something dark and dangerous—wrapping around me. “Come on, princess. Don’t act like you’re innocent.” His lips curled at the word, making it sound filthy. “You knew what this was. You let her think you were her friend.”

I clenched my fists. “You think you’re any better? You’re making North do all the work, you haven’t lifted a fucking finger.”

He hummed, considering. “Didn’t need to, you’re doing all my work for me, aren’t you, gorgeous?”

I hated that he was right.

I hated that I had let Quinn believe I was on her side, that I had liked her. That some part of me had meant it.

But Connor didn’t care about that.

Connor cared about power.

And right now, he had all of it.

His lips brushed my ear as he murmured, “You’re just like the rest of us, Summer. Messy, selfish, and hungry for something you shouldn’t want.”

My breath hitched.

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