Page 75 of Property of Fang
“Are you sure about that?”
She snaps her head around, eyes critical. “Fuck you.”
“Sometimes wish you would.”
“What the hell happened to you?” she asks, turning to face me and taking an uninvited step my way. “You’ve been defensive from the outset, but you’re a proper bastard now that you didn’t get what you wanted from me. Unaccustomed to women saying no?”
“My mother and father would dispute that fact.”
“That you’re a misogynist?”
“That I’m a bastard.”
“Ugh.” Jenna thrusts both fists at her sides and then heads for the front door.
“Where are you going?” I toss the question her way, sure to sound bored as I do despite being desperate to know.
“Outside,” she shouts. “Away from you.”
I rise to my feet and follow her onto the porch. “Afraid I can’t let you do that.”
“Why the hell not?” She doesn’t turn to face me, let alone slow down, jogging down the steps to the yard that slowly turns to a muddy slurry.
“Because you can’t be trusted.”
“Neither can you, remember!” The woman finally spins, losing her footing a little on the dirt and stones. “Who’s following you around, though, huh?”
“Fate.”
“Fuck me, Nibbles.” She rolls her eyes and then resumes her march across the muck, clearly unsure where she’s going. “Why don’t you let fate follow me too, then? Why’s that fine for you but not good enough for me?”
She spirals, and it’s beautiful. Because what comes after the spiral is a breakdown. A complete collapse of her walls, checks, and balances, that’ll allow me an honest look at who she is—what she’s doing here. Jenna’s almost there; she just… needs… a little… nudge. “You killed an opposing club member, Freckles. You killed a rival associate to protect yourself, and that makes you a threat to every one of us here.That’swhy fate isn’t good enough for you.”
Jenna freezes, slowly lifting her arms to hug herself.
Silence reigns between us.
“How do I know you ain’t about to find yourself a gun in the middle of the night and put me down, too? Try to get at Chaos? What’s stopping you from hurting my daughter?”
She shrugs, choosing to remain facing away.
“You’re a danger to every one of us here, including yourself.”
“Got anything else you want to add?” Her words are small. Fragile.
I take a step closer. “Why do it?” I edge around Jenna, moving to stand in front of the woman.
She stares at the ground between our feet, chewing the inside of her cheek.
“Why let your old man put you in harm’s way? What was in it for you?”
I count the small puffs of warm air that escape her slight nose, note the way they speed up a little. She’s still wearing my sweater, but her feet are bare, and she’s rocking a borrowed pair of yoga pants that’s too thin for this weather. She has to be cold. It’s barely after breakfast and near zero out here.
“What was in it for you, Freckles?” I repeat, a little softer this time.
She breaks.
Tiny sniffles, the slight tilt of her head backward to stall the fall of her tears. Jenna swallows, over and over, her soft, inked throat working overtime to stall her breakdown. She’s too proud to put it all out there. Too proud to admit her failures.
