Page 121 of Crossed
She heads into the bathrooms at the end of the hall, and I’m right behind her, anger snapping and hissing at my back.
“Youfuckingbitch.” My voice echoes off the tile, and she halts from where she was leaning over the sink to look in the mirror, slowly spinning toward me and quirking a brow.
“Oh, please. Get over yourself.” She rolls her eyes.
My body shakes. “That was cruel. And he may not know it, but I do, and years from now, he’ll look back and he’ll remember.”
She huffs out a laugh. “Don’t be so dramatic, Amaya. It’s just a little bit of fun.”
I step forward slowly, a sense of anticipation thrumming in my veins, and I whip my hand out and smack her across the face, so hard she stumbles into the counter, her head flung to the side.
She sucks in a breath, her palm covering her reddened cheek, and she looks back at me, straightening with a sneer on her face. “You are such trash, Amaya Paquette.You’retrash, your brother is trash, and your little slut of a friend Dalia is trash.”
I point at her, my finger shaking. “Shut your fucking mouth.”
“I’m not saying anything that isn’t true. Even your own mother knew it.” She smirks. “Why do you think she’s not around?”
I lose all sense, reaching out and swiping the metal tissue dispenser that’s sitting on the sink. I don’t even register the weight as I grab it and slam it down on her head.
A door opens behind me, but I don’t give a shit who sees, and I slam the metal on her face again. She crumples to the floor, and I follow, hovering over her while I bash her skull in and watch as her blood spills out onto the floor.
Arms surround me and pull me back, and then I’m lifted into sturdy arms and swept away from the room all together, my fingers caked in blood and stuck to the tissue dispenser that’s still in my hand.
The familiar smell of pine fills my senses, and I breathe out fully for the first time since yesterday, slumping against Cade’s chest while he whisks me away and down the hall.
Chapter48
Cade
“CALM DOWN, PETITE PÉCHERESSE,” I WHISPER IN her ear.
I don’t even think she’s aware that she’s trembling in my arms.
My own heart is pounding, and although it’s certainly not the appropriate time for it, I’m hard as a rock. She was a vision in her violence, a fallen angel seeking vengeance for being wronged.
She is a masterpiece, and she is mine.
“Cade,” she murmurs, her eyes wide and unseeing. She’s covered in blood, and the only reason I haven’t peeled her fingers off the metal dispenser in her hands is because I don’t want her to leave any evidence. I was lucky to beat Parker into the bathrooms in the first place.
“Amaya,” I say, rushing us out the back entrance and into the parking lot.
She lets out a sob and curls farther into my arms, and while I want to sit down and rock her, soothe whatever is sitting so heavy on her soul, there isn’t time for that now.
There’s averygood chance she just murdered Florence Gammond, and I need to get her away so she doesn’t end up in jail.
“Amaya,” I repeat. “Tell me where Quin is.”
“Quin?” She shakes her head, sniffling. “He’s fine. He-he’s safe. With Dalia.”
“You’re sure?”
She hesitates but then nods. “Yes, I saw her with him.”
I nod because that’s all I need to know. Once I get her somewhere safe, I can come back for him.
We reach my car and I fling open the passenger door, shoving her inside and grabbing the seat belt before clicking it into place. I brush the hair from her face and cup her jaw. She stares down at the blood covering her hands, that piece of metal still gripped tight.
“Listen to me. I’m taking you away from here, do you understand? Do you trust me?”
