Page 41 of Jagger's Remorse
"Don't play games. Not now. Two of my brothers are dead because of you."
"Because of choices," I correct. "They chose to steal from my family. You chose to send them. I just... facilitated consequences."
"Is that what you call it?"
"What would you prefer? Divine justice? Karmic retribution?"
I use his grip to pull myself up, bringing us face to face.
"Or should I call it what it really is—the beginning of your penance?"
"My penance started five years ago."
"No. That was your guilt. Guilt is easy. Guilt is self-indulgent."
I lean closer, breathe against his mouth. "Penance requires suffering."
He shoves me back onto the bed, but I see the war in his eyes.
Want versus wisdom.
Need versus knowledge.
"You think you know me," he growls.
"I do know you. Every scar. Every sin. Every time you've woken in the morning with my father's name on your lips."
"Then you know what I'm capable of."
"I'm counting on it."
I spread my legs, inviting him and challenging him at the same time.
"Show me. Show me the monster who kills fathers. Show me the devil who pretends to be saved."
His control snaps just like I knew it would.
He's on me, in me, hands rough and desperate.
But I'm ready.
I've been ready for five years.
I flip us, pin his wrists above his head.
He could break free easily, but he doesn't.
He wants to see where this goes.
Wants to let me drive him to ruin.
"My turn," I whisper, moving slow enough to torture. "My rules."
"Scarlett—"
"Shut up."
I lean down, let my hair curtain us in darkness. "You don't get to speak. Killers don't get last words."
