Page 32 of Kill Feed

Amani steps forward again, pleading, “You need to calm down! Please. What he did was wrong on so many fucked up levels, but I’m begging you to stop.”

But I can’t. All I see is red.

I tried so hard to rid myself of those memories—the shitty press that never seemed to grow bored of my tragic story. Here, no one knew who I was. And now? Now everyone at Phantom fucking Productions knows.

All it took was a quick internet search, and the articles flooded anyone who dared dig up my past. All that’s left now is damage control, and I’ll die before letting that happen.

Lucas swallows hard, looking tiny under the weight of my fury, his jaw tight, his eyes darting like searching for some Hail Mary. “I was trying to help! I’m sorry…”

I narrow my eyes at him, taking in his meaningless words. He doesn’t fucking get it.

I take in the state of them before turning my back without a single word. I throw the door open and step into the early night air, heart pounding like a jackhammer on concrete, blood boiling in my veins.

What a fucking waste of my time.

Chapter 9

Adrian

The next morning comes and goes. And so does Amani.

She stood at the door as if approaching a wounded animal. All careful smiles with a careful tone, and her careful words, asking about what happened yesterday.

I told her I lost it.

That part is true. But the reaction… that was mine. He deserved every fist I threw his way.

She claimed I’d never even raised my voice before. Also true.

I don’t raise my voice, nor get violent, but last night was nothing but a rupture.

She lingered on how the look in my eyes terrified her and how the excessive violence ‘wasn’t me’. I replied with, “Then he shouldn’t have provoked me,” and that didn’t go over well with her. She even brought up Xavier’s absence. Stating that it is affecting all of us.

She claimed I’m not my father. I didn’t argue, but I didn’t reassure her either. What does she know anyway?

I don’t feel like him. I don’t rage for the sake of it, and I certainly don’t drink and swing at shadows.

What happened yesterday wasn’t chaos. It was pressure finding a fucking crack.

Despite it all, I nodded along and told her what she wanted to hear. Talking about it won’t change the mechanics of what happened. It won’t un-send the portfolio or erase my past out of their heads. Neither mine.

As much as Lucas deserved everything that came his way – aka my fists – Amani should not have witnessed that. That’s not the image I have curated for her.

I glance down at my knuckles, all swollen and bruised as I stand at the kitchen sink. There’s no point sitting in the aftermath.

There’s only what comes next.

After Amani left, I considered what to do about Phantom Productions and what to do about this pent-up irritation at the situation. But right now, I am still calculating the outcome if I truly decide to take up the offer.

My phone buzzes on the counter next to the kettle.

For fuck-sakes. I’ve had enough for one morning. I swear, if this is Selene trying to contact me or even Lucas, I’m tossing the phone out the fucking window.

I grab the device from the coffee table with force, yet my nerves settle as the screen lights up.

Dante: “You free later? Thought you could come by the gym, get a feel for the place. No camera or anything, just come hang out.”

God, this is awful timing. I type out a reply, pause, delete it, then type again.