Page 130 of Keeping Kasey
My eyes fall on Logan.
He’s no longer smug, but his anger is palpable, and I can’t tell if it’s because he doesn’t believe me or because hedoes.
I look between the three of them and scoff.
This time, when I stand, Damon doesn’t stop me.
“You didn’t need to hold me at gunpoint. You didn’t need to shoot Mark. You didn’t need to take me as your hostage. All you had to do waslisten. I would’ve told you all of this if you’d given me a single chance to.”
I close the distance between Logan and me, meeting his cutting glare with my own. “I should’ve told you the truth about Brandon and the program, but do you know what my biggest regret is?”
He doesn’t say anything, even as I shove my finger into his chest.
“I regret every second I wasted believing you were anything other than a vile, cruel monster.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Kasey
I hate this stifling house almost as much as the men living in it.
After storming out of Logan’s office, I came to the back porch. The wind is freezing, but I prefer it to being inside that stuffy manor.
I expected to be followed and dragged back—maybe locked in my room or forced to watch Ryan torture Mark—but no one came to bother me.
I lean my elbows against the porch railing and drop my head into my hands.
This time yesterday, I was browsing booths at the flea market, debating whether I should cancel my date with Mark.
Now he’s in a hospital bed with a gunshot wound and the shadow of death looming over him, and I’m being held hostage by the very people who sent me running in the first place.
Guilt and regret churn in my stomach, making me feel physically ill. I never should’ve let Mark get close to me.
I bring death and ruin everywhere I go.
My stomach turns again, and I wrap my arms around my midsection.
When my mouth waters, it’s already too late.
I run to the porch stairs, just barely making it to the bushes before I throw up everything in my stomach. Sweat beads on myforehead, and my hands shake uncontrollably. The pounding in my ears is deafening, and I take long breaths that don’t make me feel better.
I stumble back, and a strong arm catches me, helping me sit on the porch steps.
“Don’t touch me,” I mumble, shaking off Logan’s hold, but when I turn to look, it’s Damon who releases me and holds out a cup of water.
“Hey, Goldie.”
I ignore him and drop my head to my knees.
I have no idea where I stand with the Consolis now. Even if they do believe me, that doesn’t mean I’m free. For all I know, the only reason Logan hasn’t come after me is because he’s too busy arranging my torture session at the base.
“You’re dehydrated,” Damon says.
“Go away,” I whisper.
“What are you going to do? Lock me in the bathroom again?”
I lift my head and find his half-smile, triumphant for getting my attention. He holds out the water, and this time, I take it.
