Page 227 of Shadowman
A roar leaves my lips as I jump on top of him.Fuck playing it coy. I’m going to tear him to shreds.
“You think you own this fucking place?! You think you’re invincible, you psycho bitch?? Well, guess what?? You’re not! You’reweak.” My hands wrap around his throat as I snarl over his face, “You gave the doctor all of your power, and now you’re nothing! The Carver isdead!You’re just Felix fucking Darcey.”
I shove off of his throat with a scoff, and he grunts in pain.
“Byron…” he gasps. “I’m… sorry, okay? I’msorryabout Kieran—”
“Shut the fuck up!” I snarl, backhanding him across the face. “Don’t fucking say his name to me!” I grab him by the collar. “Youdon’t feel shit likesorry, so don’t fucking patronize me! You’re embarrassing yourself…”
“No, wait. Listen,” he croaks. “I’m not sorry I killed him… He was a piece of shit, you know that.”
I glare down at him, heaving with unfettered wrath.
“Come on, man. You can’t tell me he didn’t deserve to die…”
“So do you,” I teem.
“Yea, I know,” he breathes out. “But I killed Kieran, okay? I did it, and I don’t feel bad about it. What Idofeel bad about is upsetting you. I didn’t mean to do that…” He swallows. “I’m sorry.”
What in the holy hell…?
The look I’m giving him is one of sheer perplexity.
My gaze narrows. “Why in thefuckwould I believe that you’re sorry for upsetting me when you don’t feel sorry for taking someone’s life? Do I look like an idiot to you?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “But you seem like a cool guy. Like Luthor and Ren. You guys are all… really nice.”
I wonder if he’d still be saying this if he knew what we did to his bedroom…
“I’m not nice,” I grumble. “If we’re being honest, neither is Ren. Luthor’s the only one who’s kind-hearted, and even he has his issues…”
“I know that, but I like hanging out with them,” he murmurs. “And you. If I’d known killing Kieran would make you hate me, I might’ve… reconsidered.”
My mouth is just hanging open. I have no earthly motherfuckingcluewhat to say to something like that.
Is he fucking with me?? He has to be. Serial killers aren’t… thoughtful? Considerate of people’s feelings?
“What the fuck are you even talking about?” I mutter, releasing him and sitting back. “You’re a goddamn lunatic…”
That makes him smile.
Okay, I’m sufficiently disturbed at the turn this is taking.
“Yea, that’s a fact.” He huffs. “Listen, like I said to you the day you broke my glasses… You can fuck me up if that’s what you need to do. I get it, and I’ll take it. Not that I think I could ever take you in a fight…”
“You couldn’t,” I grunt.
“I’m just saying.” He chuckles. “I respect the vengeance, trust me, I do. But one thing I willnotallow you, or Trevel, to do is hurt Lemuel. That’s where I draw the line.”
My brows lift while I consider his wacky words. I hate that he’s getting through to me, but I can’t stop recognizing therealityin all this.
This path of revenge we’re on… It’s a vicious cycle. As long as people keep getting hurt, someone will always feel the need to avenge them.
If either of them hurts Trevel, I’ll fucking hurt them in return. And then they’ll hurt me…When does it end?
I’m suddenly very tired. Soveryexhausted by all of this.
More than anything, I just want Trevel to come back. I actually glance at the door, praying he’ll come striding through rightnow, alive and well. Tall and pretty, with those peculiar eyes and puffy pink lips sloped into one of his smirks. His deep voice with that accent talking so much nonsense, but purposefully excluding the real stuff. The stuff I want…
