Page 73 of Forsaken Devotion: Part 2
“Keep pushing Lucian, and I’ll end up at the strip club,” I hissed.
He squeezed the steering wheel, the creak loud and obvious.
“Over my dead, mauled body.” His words sounded yanked from his soul.
“Is that so?” I retorted, curtly.
He snarled, gripping the back of my neck. I didn’t back down, instead raising my eyebrow.
He wasn’t going to hurt me. I kept hold of his intense eyes, the urge to look away eating at my stomach, but I wouldn’t submit. Lucian should be able to see that in my eyes.
“I respect your decision,” he bit out. The sullen expression that settled on his features said that was as far from the truth as possible.
“Good.” I smiled. “Verity will pick me up before our shift.” He stiffened. “But I’ll compromise and you can pick me up after work.” I sighed, exasperated. “Lucian, you have to trust me. This is part of me being able to accept . . . this.” I motioned between us.
His nose flared, and he ground his teeth until I could hear the pop of his jaw.
“Fine.” He exhaled with a slow stream of breath.
“Good,” I said, relieved it wouldn’t launch us into an argument. I could tell it took him a lot of effort to give in. “Now, back to your parents. Alex and you don’t share a father?”
I waited a beat in silence.
“No,” he replied. “He’s the product of one of my mother’s many affairs.”
“Many?” I gawked.
“That’s surprising to you?” he said, sullen. “Didn’t you see how distraught he is because he doesn’t have his fated?”
It was a good point. I eyed the slanted roof and the peeling paint of my place.
“I’ll go get my checks and some of my stuff,” I said, grabbing the door handle and sliding out of the car. “I’ll be right back.”
“Hurry up. If you’re not back in ten minutes, I’m going inside.”
“Yes,Sir,” I teased and shut the door.
I went to my front door and directly to the plant where I’d hidden a key. With my crouch, the extra-tight uniform pants Lucian retrieved for me dug into my belly. The doorknob turned under my hand.
I stood, stunned, staring at the destruction. Spray paint coated the entire living room in slashing red. My couch was tornin places, and the knife that had presumedly been used lay next to it. I entered and shut the door behind me, my hand numb from the shock.
Every single pantry door was open, and the new porcelain dishes were smashed across the floor. Everything in here was vandalized. Slowly, I entered my bedroom. The same sort of invasion greeted me. My bed was slashed, its foam guts spilling out, and the springs were within view. I knelt down and grabbed the shirt that my foot nudged. It had been sliced up.
This had been a targeted attack and by someone who loathed me—Cierra. A growl spilled from my throat.
I doubted there was anything left for me to take, but I started the painstaking challenge of going through all of my destroyed belongings and creating a pile of garbage on the bed.
Oh, how nice, she left me a fucking tank top.
The paint sprayed on the wall above my bed had a word scrawled across it. I squinted and turned my head:
Whore.
I burst into laughter.
What, did she think we were in high school?
I swiped my fingers under my eyes. This was the sort of pathetic shit a mean girl would have done.
