Page 69 of Hate So Deep

She’ll be a fucking queen when she does, but I won’t be here to see it because we are not soulmates. We are not buddies. We’re not even the same people.

Case in point, Lauren waved that bloody fucking shirt in the air, which she had been carrying around god knows how long like a damn flag, while I burned that shit into nothing but dust because I’m no stranger to covering what I don’t want to be found.

Every family has secrets but when rich people are exposed, they buy their penance. The rest of us assholes burn for it.

While I’m glad this exists for Lauren because with the way things are heading, she’s going to need it, it’s not me who will be riding in with the magical bag of coins to rescue her.

Eventually, she’ll see the bigger picture.

In the meantime, I will do what I’m good at. I’ll search for the assholes who drugged her in the darkness and if they’re lucky, eventually they’ll get to see the light again.

This is my vow as I stalk up to Gage’s house, curling my lip while I stare at the red fucking wood door with a Christmas wreath covered in bright shining ornaments adorning it.

This is why we hate the fucking richies. They’re always crossing over to our side and pretending to be something they’re not.

Meanwhile, they turn up their noses at our people, while stepping on our broken backs to continue the fucking charade.

Gage doesn’t know struggle, unless it’s figuring out which video game to play after stealing Mommy’s credit card and buying a new fucking television.

Confirming my thoughts on the subject, Gage is wearing a button-down shirt and fucking chinos when he opens the door, his mouth folding into a frown.

The sounds of laughter echo behind him and I cock my head. It would appear that his parents are home from wherever they went while he had his last party.

“Bro,” a tiny voice squeaks behind him and Gage steps onto the porch before closing the door in who I presume to be his little brother’s face.

He’s lucky he’s not alone because I’d kick his ass right now, but I have to be smart about these things. It’s all about the game. I don’t have any plans to go to jail right this second and if I’m lucky, I never will.

However, until I know what happened to Lauren that night and whether this douche was involved I ain’t going anywhere.

“What do you want?” Gage asks, and I cross my arms.

“Did you fuck with my girl, Gage?” I ask and his eyes widen before they narrow.

When he pulls up a slick smile, I step into his space, ensuring that my breath puffs against his cheek as he says, “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t fuck with me, man. You think you’re immune? You’re not. Iwillkick your fucking ass and you’ll be lucky to be breathing through a straw when I’m done.”

“I didn’t drug anybody,” he says, “but Buck sure did seem interested in the goodies if you know what I mean.”

Did Buck buy the roofies? How long has he been doing it?

I’m not surprised by the confirmation, but I am revolted because I can’t imagine any scenario in which trying to get a woman into your pants includes drugging them and that’s saying a lot considering my own past.

He’s always been a pathetic ass weasel though, so there’s that.

“So, you sold Buck the drugs?” I ask and when Gage shrugs, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m not asking again.”

Asshole.

When he nods, I grab his shirt and shove him against the door. The stupid ass wreath crunches under the weight of his body as I ask, “Did you drugher?”

“I said no,” he squeals.

“This is your last fucking warning, you little piece of shit. If you sell any more fucking drugs like that to another human being, I will hunt you down. I will cut you into little pieces but not before cutting off your fucking dick. And then I’m gonna bury you all across the United fucking States so your family will never find you.”

I’ll give him props, he’s a tough nut to crack when he merely stares at me, until I raise a brow and say, “Feel me?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, and I step away, waiting until his hand is on the door.

---