Page 122 of Manic

“Fuck you,” I spit, shoving him.

Noah stumbled a step and chuckled, the sound low and devoid of emotion. Blood roared between my ears, the stars fading in the sky as my vision narrowed. Adrenaline shot through my bloodstream, and my hands trembled from the hatred in his gaze.

I knew then, with such certainty, that he would kill me before I could ruin his plans to take down my family. His face changed as he straightened, dark and deceitful—contorting into someone much darker than who I’d loved before.

Then Noah lunged, clamping a hand over my mouth before I could scream, and we stumbled to the ground.

31

SUTTON

Color leeched from my face, my stomach twisting as I backed away from Manic. He knew. God, he fucking knew. How much, though? It was hard to tell as he stalked forward. Was that why he’d disappeared earlier—to discover what Ronan had on me?

A mixture of snow and cold wind bit at my face, my boots crunching with every step back. He tilted his head, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

“It was an accident,” I breathed.

“Was it?”

No, I wanted to say.

Well… kind of. Maybe. I couldn’t decipher it, as the night remained fragmented and blurry from the alcohol I’d consumed.

Noah had attacked me though, throwing us to the ground and whispering how he’d just needed me silent until he could turn in the evidence. It was when his hands had wrapped around my throat that I knew he would have either locked me away or killed me.

Before I could comprehend what I was doing, I’d already sunk the blade Henry had given me beneath his ribs. Fear and adrenaline kept the blade moving until he’d collapsed on the grass, and I’d called Henry back to the park, shaken and confused.

Henry had taken one look at Noah’s body before calling my father. After that, I’d gone through multiple interrogations until my name was cleared when it shouldn’t have been. And in the days following Noah’s death, I’d also confronted my father about the speculations. He’d dismissed them all, and I didn’t question it.

I should have questioned it.

I should have believed Noah.

If I’d entertained him, would Noah still be here? Would he have been as cruel to me if I had? Ever since Manic kidnapped me and the truth sank in, my guilt over Noah’s death had only grown.

Everything he told me had been true.

That my father was a part of something much bigger than his casinos. Did my father have it in him to kill someone? I couldn’t confirm. If anything, he likely hired someone else to do it. If an investigator had a case against my father years ago, there was a good chance the Crimson Crowes had taken care of it.

But maybe my guilt, my actions then, were why I hadn’t put as much effort into escaping the penthouse; it was my own personal punishment. I deserved to be Manic’s captive. And the Russian’s. I deserved it all.

“Well?” Manic asked.

I took a shuddering breath, ignoring his need for an answer. “What are you going to do?”

“With the information?” His mouth tilted down. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

I barked a shaky laugh, halting my steps only when rock and sediment fell to the depths below. We were high enough that just the sound of those rocks skittering at the bottom made my blood thrum.

“Nothing,” he repeated, closing the distance. I couldn’t move. “I’ve done far worse than you, Sutton. Did he deserve it?”

“I—”

That night with Noah danced in my mind, my fear resurfacing. I had thought he was going to kill me. I opened my mouth, unsure how to explain as the words caught in my throat. But the thought of voicing my truth, even to Manic, lifted the weight of guilt off my chest.

“He hit me—” I admitted, “—strangled me that night because he thought my father had murdered his. He was going to turn in evidence. I argued because I didn’t believe him, but he’d been so obsessed with his father’s case…” I swallowed and shook my head. “It all happened so fast.”