Page 115 of Word to the Wise

He’s holding a gun.

“Don’t worry, baby.” He smiles when my eyes meet his. “This isn’t for you.”

That doesn’t make me feel any better. If anything, it might make it worse. It’s one thing for him to take his rage out on me because I’ve been conditioned by him to take it, but Mason doesn’t deserve this.

“Reed.” Mason’s voice comes from somewhere down below.

It would be a relief if Carter didn’t instantly grin at the sound of him. “Speak of the devil.”

I open my mouth to scream for Mason to stop, but Carter shoves forward the moment I do, placing the barrel under my chin and cutting me off.

“Shh.” Carter pulls my back to his front, holding the gun hard against my skin. “Be good for me, baby. You don’t need to get caught up in this mess.”

He doesn’t see I already am.

I’m the reason this mess exists.

This was between me and Carter, and now I’ve gone and dragged Mason and my brother into this.

All hope drains the moment Mason reaches the roof and steps out onto it. He immediately slows his pace when he sees me pinned to Carter like a shield.

I try not to let the heartbreak in his eyes take the fight from me, but it’s a battle I’m losing.

Closing my eyes, I try to focus.

On the taste of blood on my tongue from where I bit it.

The smell of gasoline and smog.

The sound of car doors opening and closing.

“Reed.” Mason’s voice comes again, snapping me back to attention.

“It’s okay, Mason.” I swallow, blinking my eyes open. “Just stay there.”

Mason pauses, his attention moving to Carter. “Get your fucking hands off my girl.”

“She’s not your girl.” Carter’s voice has lost all rage.

It’s calm.

A tone he saves for when he’s truly slipping. It’s peaceful to anyone who doesn’t know him. But to me, it’s the most haunting sound.

Mason takes one step forward. “Put the gun down.”

“Or what?” Carter laughs. “She knows who she belongs to.”

“I’m not yours, Carter.” It comes out through gritted teeth and with the full force of my heart.

At that, Carter spins me so we’re facing each other, but the gun is still pressed under my chin. His eyes bore into me. Dark rage settles like the clouds do before a storm soaks the earth. Thunder and lightning at a distance. You see it before you hear it.

His gaze is the whisper of a tornado, ready to rip this entire scene to pieces.

“Youaremine.”

“We’re over, Carter.” I shake my head, and it brushes the barrel of the gun under my chin. “You need to accept that. You need to get help.”

Carter might be beyond it, but when I think back to the man I met when I was twenty, I want to believe there’s still a chance.

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