Page 103 of Ricochet
"Okay, Ophelia. I might be threatening you, but it’s for your own good."
"My own good?" Was this guy for real?
"Yes, for you. Imagine the disappointment those three would feel if we ever told them what really happened that night. Tsk-tsk, you don't want them to feel like shit again. I think you did enough."
"I didn't fucking kill her. You know it, I know it, and the video clips from security cameras you so expertly erased that night know it."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Sis. Are you okay? Is your brain playing games on you?"
"Oh, you motherfucking—” I jumped up, advancing toward him, when he shuffled out of the chair, retracting closer to the door. "I don't need fucking knives to kill you. I'm going to do the job with my bare hands."
"Ah, ah, ah." He placed his hands in front of him, moving closer to the door. "Now, now, no need to get hasty here. I was just stating a fact."
I growled but before I could strangle him, the door opened revealing the two guards I knew were in front of my door.
"Remember what I said, Ophelia. Maya needs you."
With one last sickening smile, he exited the room, leaving me more furious than before.
Oh, I was going to enjoy killing him.
Four Years Ago
My phone rangfor the tenth time, but I didn't have the energy to deal with Kieran right now. I knew it was him. The first three times I denied his call he should've understood the message. I didn't fucking want to talk to him.
I never wanted to see him again, to feel this pain eating at my insides. He managed to do what even my father couldn’t.
He fucking destroyed me.
Trust was a very important thing to me, and he just threw it away like yesterday's thrash. No, the time for explanations was long gone, and the only thing we were left with was the bitter taste of reality. He made his bed, and now he had to sleep in it.
I had better things to do, important people to save, and he was currently at the bottom of the list of people I cared about. Maybe in a few years, maybe in another life, but not now.
He screwed me over and I owed nothing to the traitorous little shit. I could almost hear his whiny voice, trying to trick me again that it was nothing. That Cynthia meant nothing.
What did men think, that just because emotions weren't involved it felt easier finding the one you love buried balls deep in another pussy?
I was trying to go over the plan for tomorrow evening, but my traitorous eyes kept glossing over, blurring the map in front of me. Fucking emotions, fucking Kieran, fucking Cynthia who kept messing with my life.
And why the fuck was I crying? That asshole didn't deserve my tears. He didn't deserve for me to even mention his name ever again.
Why did it hurt so much, that I felt as if my chest would cave in on itself? If this is what love felt like, I didn't want it. I didn't want any of it.
Ava told me that it takes time getting over somebody, but it shouldn’t hurt this much. I was stronger, nothing affected me. Why couldn't I get over this?
Because love runs deep, but betrayal runs deeper.
Love, love, love, it could fuck off with the rest of the emotions I didn't want to have. It could burn for all that I cared, because it never brought me anything but hell. I thought loving Kieran would bring me some semblance of peace, that his light would work well with my darkness, that we would be happy.
Well, as happy as we could be in this fucked-up world.
But I was so fucking wrong. I wanted to hit myself repeatedly until I couldn't remember what it felt like to be held by him. Until the only memory I had of him was the picture of him fucking Cynthia in our bed.
God fucking dammit.
I swept at my cheeks, the wetness sticking to my hands. Why couldn't I stop crying? I was fine, I would be fine, and he will end up being just a bitter aftertaste of what could've been.
I was already tired, fighting myself from going after him and bashing his head in, so when the phone rang again, I dashed toward the nightstand and answered on the second ring.
