Page 115 of The Deceptions
Oli
Great...
Carter
Take it you know the fucker that's responsible?
Know him? I abhor him. But I don't say that.
Oli
You could say that. Looks like I need to be extra careful.
Carter
Fucking right. Not only does he watch fucking anime porn...
I throw my head back and groan at his words. That's a detail I didn't need to know about my former best friend. He can do whatever the hell he pleases, anime porn included, but that visual? Ugh.
Carter
But he's been looking into your school records obsessively. Fucking hell. He knows a lot about your fake persona... Not to mention how fucking easy and suspect your files are. Who's in charge of making that shit? Should have let me do it. Here… I'll fucking fix it.
Oli
What the hell do you mean, easy to get into?
Carter
Like I fucking said. Easy to fucking spot that your shit is fake. Veritas let some hack do this shit… He's onto you. And if he's onto you… who else fucking will be? Sorry to burst your bubble, Agent fucking Princess, but you gotta be careful. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm all out of fucks for today.
I toss my hands into the air with a huff. Agent fucking Princess? That's a new one. Especially coming from him. How bored is he that he's willing to do all this stuff for me? You know, if we had been on the phone, he would have hung up on me without saying goodbye. At least he's always here to hand over the information. I guess.
"Rude fucker," I grumble, rubbing over my aching stomach. It cramps harder, making my eyes squeeze shut.
I sigh, grab a water bottle, and gulp it down. My jaw aches with every move. My stomach hurts. Everything fucking hurts. Ineed a hot, uninterrupted shower and lots of sleep before I jump into anything. Is this a life-and-death situation? Uh, huh. But I need to take care of myself first and sort out my body before tonight.
With that in mind, I swallow my anti-inflammatories, grab some clean clothes and chest binder, and head to the bathroom. Everyone seems to be still passed out. Wade is snoring on the couch with an empty ice cream carton on the coffee table. I sigh, longingly staring at the small freezer where I put my ice cream before bed. Later. I'll eat it later. First, I need a hot shower to warm up my muscles, and then I'm going for a jog. That always seems to help the merciless cramps invading my uterus. Even if it’s goddamn torture. Who willingly runs through the woods like their ass is on fire for exercise? Psychopaths, that’s who. If I am running, then you should probably run, too. It means danger is afoot, and I’m getting the fuck out of dodge.
Ugh, I hate jogging.
Plus, I need to investigate Franco's former home and pray to the fucking stars he doesn't live there anymore. If JJ is doing his dirty work for him, he might know I'm here, and I'll have to be extra careful around campus to keep my life intact. Because, despite everything, I'd rather stay alive, thanks. Or, I’ll have to leave, and I can’t have that. I need to investigate what I came for.
Once I hobble to the bathroom, I put my clean clothes on the countertop and stare at my reflection. Ooof. Yup. I look rough as hell. Who is staring back at me? A stranger. That’s who. Ugh. Right there on my jaw is a large bruise, turning black and blue. Brutus better count his days for his dirty tactics. Oliver fucking Davenport is ready for him again. Well, maybe. I'm sure he'll be gunning for me around campus and probably hoping to make my life miserable. News flash, buddy, I already live in Misery City—population one.
My fingers tremble as I trace the massive bruise around the edges, testing it. The pain sparks instantaneously the moment I press hard into the black and blue surface of my flesh, sending white-hot pain through my damn veins. It ignites something inside me. A war cry wanting to fall from my lips and display everything that I’m bottling inside.
But I don’t.
My lips hold firmly together, hiding the cry in my throat and the tears misting my eyes.
I refuse to fall victim to the pain that was inflicted on me. Because of him. Mack. He set it up, wanting to bring Oliver Davenport down a notch.
This is my battle wound. My win. Proof that the boy who once loved me and then discarded me couldn’t get rid of me again.
Sucker.
I sigh, slowly lifting my shirt over my head and cringing at the large bruise on my ribs. Thankfully, I didn't have to sleep in my binder last night. Even though I was paranoid Dane was going to come in to check on me and my nonexistent girlfriend. My comforter is thick enough to hide my body beneath it and not show off my curves.
