Page 36 of Manic

“Fuck you,” she spit, voice dripping with enthusiastic disdain. “My father will come for me.”

“Will he? Because he knew his separation from us was conditional and was advised to prepare his family, which he clearly failed to do. He chose not to worry you. He was willing to let you pay the price—your kidnapping was always on the table.”

Her lips parted. “That’s not true.”

I tilted my head and pressed my palms against the glass, trapping her as I leaned in. She slunk into the windows, shoulders curling in on themselves.

“It’s true. Every person, every department, that joins our events is aware of what their family does alongside my father. They are required to go every single year as a way to keep them on a leash. It’s a way for him to bide time until they’re useful again. And when Luka departed from us five years ago, he was forced to attend. Did you know that?”

Her eyes dropped to the floor.

“Does Amelia know about the Crimson Crowes?” Sutton asked quietly, betrayal heavy in her voice.

“Yes.”

She audibly swallowed and blinked, as if she could hide the tears I knew welled there.

I was unsure of what she knew about Amelia’s family—the Belmontes—but they owned the high-class law firms across Vancouver. They’d been the Crimson Crowes’ lawyers for as long as I could remember, passed down from generation to generation. For the last three years, Amelia had known what her family does.

Unable to refrain, I gripped Sutton’s jaw and forced her gaze on me again. Her brows pinched. Soft and pliable, I wondered what she’d feel like if I took her to bed. How soft her skin was. What her mouth tasted like. Dangerous thoughts, and ones I refused to entertain.

“If you don’t understand the board,” I said firmly, “you’ll always be someone else's piece to play. Even if you do leave by the end of this, you should still learn. I will teach you everything so you’re not blindsided again. You’re smart. Prove them wrong.”

“I won’t be proving anything, because I did nothing wrong,” she declared, and pushed me in an attempt to force distance. I didn’t budge. Instead, I drove my hips forward, my fingers flexing on her face. She winced, letting out a breathy cry.

“Did?” I asked. “That means you did something. So, what was it?”

A single tear rolled down her cheek and onto my thumb, and the sudden urge to kiss away her sorrow clawed at my insides. The primal urge to drown her in pleasure until everything in life was nothing but a long, forgotten memory.

I stiffened, arms locking.

Since when did I want to kiss away someone’s emotions? If anything, her sadness should please me, accompanied by a blazing thrill. And yet I was at a crossroads. I felt nothing of the sort. In fact, I felt more at ease than I had been in weeks.

Her eyes dropped to my mouth. “Thank you for the food, but I want to retire to my room.”

“Tell me what you did first,” I said gruffly, unable to part just yet. “I’m sure it’s no worse than anything I’ve done. Spill it.”

She shook her head and looked away.

My fingers dug in as I tightened my hold once more. Her wide eyes locked onto mine, pupils blown. Heat, foreign and wild and raw, unfurled inside me.

I wanted to leave this fucking place as much as she did, and her cooperation was my only ticket out. If I left, it meant we’d be miles and miles apart. I needed all the distance I could get by the time this was over.

In my head, she was mine. In reality? It wasn’t possible. Not with me. She deserved the world, and I would burn hers to the ground without so much as a speck of remorse.

Stalking her was only a distraction for my fucked up life, because I knew I could never have her. Not in the way I wanted. It was a distant dream to have someone like Sutton in my life, one I’d imagined as a boy, long before Raven had died.

But that was all it was. A dream.

I only sabotaged her dates because the thought of other men touching her—kissing her—made my blood boil. I might have killed one or two, but they deserved every bit of the torture I doled out. And after this was all over, I would leave the city, and she’d be free of me. She deserved to be free of me.

Instead of screaming, instead of demanding more answers, I swallowed those foreign emotions and did what I’d never done with a captive before. I offered a deal.

“If you cooperate,” I said, “I’ll tell you everything about your stalker and everything about your parents. I’m about as close as you’ll ever get to knowing either of those things.”

Her breath hitched as she pushed me one last time, frantic for distance. I reluctantly let go and stepped back, waiting for an answer in the lingering silence. Her shoulders lifted with ragged inhales, arms shaking.

“I’ll… I’ll think about it,” she said softly, eyes cast down. “I want to sleep. It’s been a long day.”