Page 29 of Ricochet
With each thrust, each grunt, I could almost feel my heart shattering into a million tiny, little pieces.
Was this my punishment for everything I did? Taking away the one thing I loved, breaking my trust, breaking my heart.
The person I loved more than anything in this world was fucking somebody I hated with a fiery passion, and I was pretty sure I was the last thing on his mind.
Her head was bent down as he fucked her from behind, the bed creaking with their weight. They didn’t talk, but that didn’t make the pain any less.
He dared to betray me like this? He dared to break me like this, use me, push me away?
Was I not enough anymore? Was I just another one of his puppets?
A sound escaped my mouth, and our eyes met.
Those few seconds felt like an eternity, and I already knew what I had to do. I could forgive almost anything. I could forget the worst things a person did, but this... I killed people for this. I murdered them in their sleep, in their houses, with their families.
I destroyed their lives because they were traitors, and that was what Kieran was.
A bloody traitor.
“Ophelia.” He finally closed his mouth and detached himself from Cynthia who scrambled back on the bed, hiding behind him. Her hand on his chest was another knife to mine, and I wanted to break each of her fingers.
Slowly.
Painfully.
He just killed me. He just killed everything we ever were, and there was no going back from this.
“How long?” I croaked. I needed to know how long this charade was going on behind my back. I needed to know how many times I was going to stab each of them once I get my hands on my knives.
I wanted to know how long I would let them bleed before ripping their throats out.
“Phee.” He stood up, his hands in the air, fear evident on his face.
“How fucking long?” I screamed, the pain too heavy to keep inside.
“Phee, I can explain. This—”
“If you tell me that this isn’t what it seems like, I am going to tear your dick off with my bare hands, Kieran.”
He paled, the previous excitement he had on his face long gone.
“Please, Phee.” He came to me, taking my hands in his.
Fear, there was so much fear in his eyes, and I loved every single second of it. You should be afraid of me.
You should fucking run away and take her with you.
I pushed him back, unable to stand his touch.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” It felt like poison, scorching hot, and it was the last time he was ever going to touch me. “Tell me how fucking long.”
“Three months.” The whore he was fucking answered instead. His eyes flickered between the two of us, guilt evident.
“Three months,” I murmured. “For three months, you’ve been screwing somebody else, while I only thought you needed some space to work out all the shit that’s been going on.”
“Birdy—”
“Don’t fucking call me that!” I bellowed. “You just lost every single right to ever call me that.”
