Page 9 of Velvet Thorns
“God, I don’t even know.”
She goes quiet for a second, which is rare enough to make me look up. Then her big green eyes flash, lighting up like a fucking firework.
“Okay, forget my gut reaction. I actually think you should go. Maybe the assclown won’t even show up. Maybe he died.”
My stomach bottoms out, and nausea slams into me.
The thought of Phoenix Cassidy being dead physically hurts, but if that were true, I think I’d feel it in my bones, in the hollow spaces between my ribs where he used to live.
Some things echo across continents and years. Some connections burn so deep they leave permanent scars on your soul. No matter how far I run or how much I rebuild myself, the ghost of Phoenix Cassidy would find a way to haunt me from six feetunder.
“He’ll show. He was the fucking quarterback. Guys like that don’t miss a chance to jack themselves off over the good old days. His head-cheerleader wife is probably organizing the whole thing while their three Stepford sons are stashed with her parents.”
Because it wouldn’t be his parents, I know the things his dad did to him. As two only children, we understood what it meant to grow up in houses that hurt more than they healed. We knew the kind of loneliness that digs its claws into your soul when no one protects you—not even the people who are supposed to.
But I don’t let myself go there.
Not for him.
Phoenix doesn’t get my grief.
Lianna leans back, her smile smug. “Good, I hope he and his robot wife are both there. I hope she shows up in some sad-ass, pastel-matching outfit, and he’s still trying to squeeze into his old letterman jacket like his dick depends on it. Then I hope they see you walk in, dressed to kill, and realize karma’s not a bitch, she’s a bombshell.” She pauses, then looks me dead in the eye. “I want that man to see you and be so fucking mad with himself for ever letting you go that it destroys him.”
“I’d have to go as Shannen Clarke,” I say quietly, like just saying the name gives it power. “The girl with no friends. The freak they shoved down stairwells and had all her textbooks pissed on.” I shake my head, as if that’ll erase the memories tearing through me. “Actually, what the fuck am I even saying? There’s no way I’m going. Why would I put myself through that?”
Phoenix. That’s why.
“Then go as who you are now, Shannen Mitchell. And fuck. Their. Shit. Up.”
The woman I am now barely resembles the Shannen Clarke I once was. I changed my hair—going from blonde to red. I’ve had a little work done, not because I wanted to be someone else butbecause I spent years being told I should hate every inch of myself. Do I regret the boob job? Maybe, sometimes. But mostly, I love how I look in my skin now. I finally feel like I belong to myself.
“Okay, but why is that so appealing?”
“Everyone wants revenge… or justice at least,” she says with a shrug, her gaze drifting to her lilac nails.
There’s only one person I want to make pay, and that’s the boy who broke me. Everyone else can rot in their bland little lives. It’s enough for me to know what I’ve become and how far I’ve climbed. But Phoenix… well, there’s a special place in hell with his name on it, and if I had the chance, I’d hand-deliver him there myself by the throat, in heels, smiling the whole damn way.
“Is it a costume party?”
“Yeah.”
“Even better. Mask up and make every single one of them regret ever fucking with you.”
Chapter 2
SHANNEN
I stare downat the black-and-white plane ticket in my hand, the corner creased from where I’ve been gripping it way too tight.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
Nothing good’s waiting for me at the end of it.
Fuck it. I’m not weak anymore. I can handle this.
My thoughts drift to the feline mask tucked carefully into my bag.
Sleek. Elegant. Predatory.
