Page 153 of Merciless

He smirks and turns his attention back to me. “Are you ready?”

“For what?” I step out of Asher’s hold and look between him and Elijah. “What the hell is going on?”

The TV switches on, and a live feed of the living room pops on.

Rome types on the laptop. “The feed is now playing on everyone’s phones.”

“How are you doing that?” I say, inching nearer.

Asher catches me and drags me back to his side, refusing to let me get closer to my friend. I cast a glare at him. He scowls back at me and tightens his grip.

“The short answer is . . . hacking.” Rome doesn’t look up as he types a few more things. Another video screen pops into the corner of the live feed.

“What’s the long answer?” I say with an awkward laugh.

“There’s not enough time, baby,” Elijah says. “Just sit back and enjoy the show.”

He and Asher face Derrick, who’s still kneeling on the ground.

“Derrick has his own secrets,” Asher murmurs. He wanders to the man in question and stops in front of him. “Things that go bump in the night with a cousin.”

Derrick’s eyes widen, and he quickly shakes his head while trying to talk through the tape. It comes out muffled and indecipherable.

“Are you saying he . . . ?” I can’t finish my question, too stunned.

“Yes,” Elijah says. “He fucks his cousin. Regularly.”

“I’m too scared to ask this.” I shift my weight to my other leg. “Are you saying that Katie is his cousin?”

Elijah and Asher turn their heads toward me. I don’t have to see their faces to know they’re flashing wolfish grins beneath their masks.

“Oh my god,” I whisper.

Katie wanted to shame me for fucking my stepbrothers, and this whole time she’s been fucking her cousin. It’s weird how people can project their insecurities onto others.

Asher strolls toward me, his gait loose and carefree. He stops in front of me and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear.

“You’re going to watch his downfall, little ghost. Right along with Katie,” he murmurs for only me to hear.

Moans break through the silence, echoing through the room. I turn to the TV, and my eyes widen at the video playing on the extra screen. In the footage, Derrick kneels behind Katie, pounding into her while gripping her slim waist and pulling her against him with every hard thrust.

“Say it,” Derrick growls.

“I love your cock, cousin,” she whines.

I cringe and look at Derrick, expecting to find him seething with rage. His good eye fills with tears, and he bows his head in shame.

Flesh slaps together, and Katie continues to call him her cousin.

I don’t know how long it plays or how long I stare at Derrick.

It feels as if someone lifted the weight off my chest and I can finally breathe. I can’t look away from Derrick’s pain. It’s cathartic, knowing that he’s taking my hurt and suffering now. I want Katie to suffer as much as he is, and I’m positive she’s scrambling right now, receiving the same hateful looks.

I hope she hears every mean whisper as she passes people. I hope she’s called a freak. I hope a lot for her, and none of these hopes are good.

She hurt me. So did Derrick.

And the two men I’m in love with are hurting them for me.