Page 70 of Pray for Scars
“I want to slit Jeremiah Rain’s throat and burn his body. Toss his bones in the fucking Raven River.”
Maverick arches a brow. He’s still in my white t-shirt, black sweatpants, a grey jacket zipped up over it. “Brutal.”
I laugh, but it has no humor. “Should be used to it. That’s your world, man.” And as the words leave my mouth, I’m regretting them because of the fucking smirk that pulls at this asshole’s lips.
“You could ask Sid all about it—”
“Don’t.”
He holds up his hands, as if in surrender. “Sorry, man, didn’t know you still had a hard-on for her.”
I know he actuallydoesknow that, but there’s no use arguing about it. I walk past him, headed to the old man’s front door.
“What’re you going to do?” he calls after me, sounding annoyed. I hear his footsteps following.
“Nothing.”
I pull open the door, but Maverick’s hand slaps it back closed. I whirl around to face him, and we’re head-to-head.
“You’re just gonna let that go?” he asks me, taunting me, leaning forward so we’re inches apart. “She’sright there.Don’t think with your dick again, man. Fucking think with your head. Stop letting her get so far away from you.”
I flex my hands at my sides, my eyes boring into his. “We have a week.” A week for me to figure this shit out.
He rolls his eyes, one hand still on the door, keeping it closed. “That’s not the point,” he nearly growls at me.
“Then what, exactly,isyour point right now?” I don’t want to think about Sid with Jeremiah. I don’t want to think about what her brother is capable of doing to her. Of what she would do for him. I have to think about it enough, what he did to her. And right on cue, the memories flicker through my mind like a video playing way faster than it should: The moment I realized something was wrong. The moment I couldn’t fight back, when Jeremiah bound my hands to my sides, rope around my body. When he sneered at me, flipped Sid on her back, pulled down her pants, his hand around her throat.
I didn’t know who he was to her then. I didn’t know Sid Rain even had a brother when my father ordered me to find her. I didn’t even know her name wasSid Rain.I learned, last week, she doesn’t actually have a real brother, but somehow, that doesn’t make it any better, not when I think about his hands under her shirt, her eyes wide open but glassy, the smile on her face because she didn’t know.
I don’t care.
She’ll be dead soon, too.
Something hits me, hard, in the chest, and I snap my eyes open, realize Maverick has me against the door, his eyes narrowed and angry.
He balls my shirt in his fist, pulling me close to him. “You know what’s going to happen to her. And you’re fine with lettinghimfuck her up in the meantime? Isn’t she going to suffer enough, you fucking asshole?”
I shove him off of me and he stumbles back but he only steps closer as he gets his balance again.
“What do you care?” I throw my arms out wide. “You don’t give a fuck, Maverick, so stop acting like you do. You’d slit her throat yourself if they asked you to. You don’t care about her. You sure as fuck don’t care if she gets hurt so—”
“But you do.” He cuts me off, getting in my face again. “You do, Luce. And if you let this happen to her, if you let Jeremiah fuck her up again before your father does, you’ll never get over it. And I don’t want to deal with your moping ass for the rest of my life—”
“Fuck off,” I snap at him. “I’ve survived worse than this.”
I see something flash in his eyes and suddenly, like a goddamn lightning bolt, I realize where this anger is coming from. He might have fucked Sid, but I know he doesn’t care about most girls he fucks. None of them, actually.
Save for one.
“Ah,” I say slowly, and he takes a step back, crossing his arms. Because he knows what I’m going to say. He’s trying to defend himself against it, trying to ward off my words. The ones he knows are coming. “This isn’t about Sid. Or fucking Jeremiah Rain. Or the 6.” I smirk at him, shaking my head. “This is about Ria Cuevas.”
At her name, his eyes flash again, and he dips his chin.
“This is about a girl you can’t love.” I run my tongue over my teeth. “You can’t love her, and you can’t let her go.” My words are quiet, but I don’t need to raise my voice. I know I’ve hit him where it hurts. I watch one of his hands curl into a fist, arms still crossed over his chest. Beyond him, I see the balcony, the glass from where, if I wanted, I could probably watch Jeremiah Rain manipulate the girlIcan’t let go.
“And you’re putting that shit on me.” I take another step and Maverick’s gaze goes to his black boots.
I put my hand on his shoulder and squeeze. He still doesn’t look at me, but I can feel the tension in his body. Any second, he’ll uncoil like a spring-loaded shotgun. I don’t care. I want him to. I need him to fight me back on this. Maybe give me some answers into what to do with it: the guilt.
