Page 100 of Undisputed Chaos
It was too much nostalgia, too much sentiment. When she finally closed it with a sigh and added it to the bag, I felt my shoulders relax slightly.
Isla
I’m done.
The image she sent showed a black garbage bag stuffed to capacity with the physical representations of her relationship with Noah.
I stared at it for a long moment, savage satisfaction mixing with arousal at the sight.
But having them bagged in her apartment wasn't enough. They needed to be destroyed, cremated, reduced to nothing but carbon and regret.
I grabbed my keys and jacket, my knife secure in its sheath at my hip. The Lamborghini's engine roared to life like a dragon waking from slumber, and I tore through the city streets with a single-minded purpose.
The security guard at her neighborhood’s entrance barely glanced at me; he knew by now I almost lived here.
I took the stairs quickly, too impatient for the elevator. When she opened the door, the garbage bag sat at her feet like an offering to the dark gods.
Her blue eyes went wide as I stepped inside, pupils dilating with that perfect mix of fear and desire that made my cock twitch. Both fed the primal need growing inside me.
"Adrian?" she questioned, stepping back to let me in further. "I didn't know you were coming over."
"Change of plans, angel." I lied, eyes drinking in every detail of her white sundress clinging to the soft curves of her body, and how the light caught in her blonde hair, creating a halo effect that made my 'angel' nickname for her feel almost prophetic.
I scooped up the bag in one hand and her waist in the other. "We're going for a ride."
"Now?" She blinked up at me, confusion and excitement mixing in her expression. “Where are we going?”
"My place," I answered, already steering her toward the door. “We’re doing something fun.”
She hesitated only briefly before grabbing her phone from the coffee table. "Should I change? Or pack something?"
"No." The word came out sharper than I intended, my patience fraying with every second those reminders of Noah remained intact.
I softened my tone, brushing my thumb along her jaw. "You're perfect as you are. We won't be long."
Another lie. She wasn't coming back tonight, or possibly tomorrow. Not until every trace of Noah Brown had been properly cremated and scattered to the wind.
Outside, I tossed the bag into the frunk of my car, then opened the passenger door for her. "In you go."
She slid into the seat, her dress riding up to reveal a creamy glimpse of thigh that momentarily distracted me from my mission.
I closed her door, moved around to the driver's side, and we were peeling out of the garage before she'd even fastened her seatbelt.
"Adrian?" Her voice was careful, measured. "What's going on?"
I glanced at her, at my ribbon, at the confused furrow between her pretty brows.
Something wild was building in my chest, a pressure that demanded release.
"You'll see," I promised, "Just trust me."
The drive took twenty minutes, during which Isla alternatedbetween nervous silence and casual questions about my day that I answered with half-truths.
I wasn't ready to explain what was driving this need, this hunger to eliminate every vestige of the man who'd come before me.
When we pulled into the private garage beside my place, her eyes widened at the collection of vehicles again.
"Home sweet home," I announced, killing the engine and moving around to open her door.
