Page 48 of Angelic Vengeance

Something I didn’t dare to decipher crossed his eyes, and more than a drop of shame bled through me when I looked away again.

He was saying things we weren’t supposed to. I wasn’t supposed to know there was even the slightest chance he felt somethingrealfor me. And he wasn’t supposed to know my mind had unwillingly wondered to possibilities where I pulled him closer instead of pushing him away. These were the things we were supposed to leave in the dark. Saying them out loud wouldn’t do either of us any good.

Torturous silence stretched across us before he broke it again. “Tell me. Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you,” I snapped back, meeting his eyes. I wasn’t sure why I wanted him to know I didn’t actually hate him. I should have been happy that’s what he had assumed. It would have made it easier for both of us if it had been true.

The raw honesty of my answer seemed to somehow satisfy him.

“Then what is it?” He asked before adding, “The truth.”

I took a deep breath and glanced around the diner. “I don’t know you.”

“The truth.” Zach’s stern voice sent a shiver through my body.

I met his eyes again and licked my lips.Why was I like this? The words left me before I knew what I was saying. “I don’t trust you.”

His eyebrows drew together as he leaned back against the booth, crossing his arms and continuing to watch me even harder than before.

“I haven’t given you a reason to not trust me.”

I rolled my eyes. Men never understood what it was like for a woman; you never knew someone’s true intentions. “You haven’t given me a reasontotrust you.”

“Bullshit.”

I gave him a look that made it clear I didn’t want to talk about it.

Zach gave me a look that made it clear he didn’t fucking care. “I always make sure you get home safe.”

“Yeah, paying for a cab is a truly heroic act,” I mocked even though I got butterflies just thinking about it.

“I always protect you.”

“Like I couldn’t do that myself?” Sarcastic laughter escaped me at his audacity. “Who do you think protected me before you came along, genius?”

“Ikilledfor you.” He spoke through gritted teeth, “Twice.”

The last of my patience snapped.

I smacked my hands on the table and leaned forward. “Don’t act like that’s not just another part of your life. I know you’re a murderer.”

His nostrils flared. “A serial killer is more than three bodies. A mass murderer is more than four.” He paused and leaned over the table, his face inches away from mine. “What does that make you?”

My chest heaved with emotion as his words sank in.

What does that make you?

A survivor. A fighter.

But I would never confide in him about it.

“Go ask that in a mirror.” My words cut through the air, not helping the tense atmosphere. I was willing to bet anything that our numbers matched.

I was so tired and so angry, I couldn’t think straight. I did the only thing I’d ever known: I ran away.

CHAPTER 18

Present

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