Corrupt - Douglas Penelope - Страница 86

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He absently picked at something on the table, shaking his head. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said, meeting my eyes. “I do want to hurt you. I want to fucking kill you, and then I’m going to kill Trevor.”

“Trevor?”

He nodded. “Oh, he’ll get what’s coming to him. Now that I know he stole the phone, oh yes. You’ll be just because I’m fucking angry, and I’ve got nothing to lose. I already lost everything, because just like a woman does, you fucked everything up. You came between brothers.”

I didn’t come between them. I never made Michael choose, and I never wanted to ruin what they had.

I wanted to be a part of it. I was curious, and I wanted to have some fun, but I never wanted to change them or stop them or…

And then I paused, dropping my eyes as I remembered the gazebo. The way I’d protested when I didn’t agree with what Will was doing. The way I’d walked off when Michael told me to stay. The way I’d looked down on what they were doing.

Maybe Damon was right.

I didn’t regret backing out of that prank. It was shitty and stupid and wrong, but while Michael may have stayed by his friends’ side that night, maybe there would’ve come a time when he didn’t.

Maybe, eventually, after more pranks and more nights of careless decisions they’d make that I’d want no part of…maybe there would eventually be a night when Michael would choose me over them.

I’d done nothing wrong, of course. This wasn’t my fault, and I knew that.

But now, seeing it through Damon’s eyes—him knowing I’d eventually get into Michael’s head and knowing that none of this—none of this—would have happened if I hadn’t gone with them that night, maybe I needed to acknowledge that I was, at least, part of this. Like Will had said…I was already involved.

“We were all hurt by what happened,” I said, locking eyes on him. “I’m not the one to punish.”

He remained still and quiet for moment.

“Maybe,” he finally answered. “Maybe you’re just a victim like the rest of us.”

Something crossed his face, a weariness bubbling under the anger and hate he tried so hard to keep on like a mask. There was something playing behind his eyes, a scene or a memory, but I couldn’t figure it out.

“It doesn’t really matter anymore,” he said in a quiet voice.

But before I got a chance to ask him what he meant, a shadow fell across the floor, and I twisted my head right to see Trevor standing in the doorway.

“Are you two bonding?”

His voice sounded so smooth and light, as if he hadn’t just hit me.

I narrowed my eyes, noticing that he looked thinner.

Annapolis.

Wait, he wasn’t supposed to be here. He couldn’t just leave the Academy whenever he wanted. Had Damon gone to him after the blow-up at Michael’s parents’ house? He had to have.

Trevor had loose ends to clear up, and he had to fear Michael would come after him. He was beating him to the punch.

Damon rose from his chair and left the room, and I tensed, realizing he was leaving me with Trevor. For some reason, I felt in more danger.

“He’d never help you,” Trevor stated, stepping into the room. “He hates women.”

He approached, and I wrapped the slack of the rope around my fist and inched up the bed, away from him. My hand hit the mirror of the headboard, and I stopped, tapping it with my nail.

Glass.

“Did you know that he was twelve when his mother started fucking him.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I turned my eyes on Trevor, horror wracking through me.

What?

“And when he was fifteen,” Trevor continued, “he beat the shit out of her and threatened to kill her if she ever came back. I overheard my father talking to his a few years ago.”

My bottom lip quivered, and I didn’t know if he was telling the truth, but why would he lie?

It would explain why Damon hated women, I guess.

“His father swept it under the rug and never talked about it again. The guys were all he had, and you took that from him.”

“You took that from him,” I growled, tightening every muscle as he sat down on the bed.

Trevor’s hand trailed up my leg, and I kicked, shoving him off, but he only smiled and gripped my thigh harder, making me cry out.

I can’t believe I ever let him touch me.

Last year, I’d given in to the years of pressure of being pushed together for dances, parties, and pictures, and I stopped fighting the constant assumptions that were together and finally just let it happen. Trevor gave me stability, he wanted me, and I was too stupid to believe I deserved better. But most of all, he was a distraction from Michael. I thought he would make me move on and forget.

It didn’t take long for me to realize that Trevor gave me nothing. In one night, Michael had showed me that I wasn’t weak. That I was beautiful, wanted, and strong, and even though that night was short-lived, I knew what I felt for Trevor didn’t even compare to everything that Michael was for me.

Trevor only claimed me as a prize. He didn’t see me.

“How can you do this?” I demanded. “What do you want?”

“I want to see you both lose,” he retorted. “I’m done being in Michael’s shadow, and I’m done watching you pant after him.” He raised his eyes, looking at me. “I want to see you both hurt.”

I ground my teeth together, jerking at the rope again and again. “Let me go.”

His hand slipped under my shirt, and I tried to twist away, his touch making my skin crawl.

“As for Damon? He just wants everyone to hurt,” he pointed out. “He and I make a great pair.”

“Why would he cover for you?” I demanded. “He knew it was you in that mask that night. Why would he let me think it was Kai?”

Trevor shrugged, watching his hand slide over my stomach. “You’d already been kicked to the trash by Michael. It served our purpose if you didn’t think you had a friend out of them left. Plus,” he said with a smile, “he doesn’t give a shit about you. After he and the rest of them thought you outed them, I think he got off on the idea that the only real threat to you was right under your nose.”

Meaning Trevor. Always there. Just one room away. Lurking, waiting…

“But you knew they thought I took the phone and uploaded the videos. You had to know they’d come after me.”

“Which wouldn’t have been a problem if you hadn’t decided to leave Brown,” he shot back. “I could’ve kept Damon at bay, and he could’ve kept the rest of them waiting.” He sighed and then continued, “But you left my protection, and maybe I just decided to let it play out. If they hurt you—if Michael hurt you—before they realized their mistake in blaming the wrong person, then maybe you’d give up on him once and for all.”

And then he got up on his hands and knees and crawled over me, hovering his face over mine. “Maybe you’d finally knock him off that pedestal you always put him on and see him for what he really is.”

“Which is what?” I bit out.

“Lesser than me.”

And then he popped his head up, as if hearing something. He shot off the bed and walked around the room, gazing out the windows.

“The only mistake I made,” he commented, peering out into the night, “was quoting my father that night in the forest. Otherwise you may never have figured it out.”

My body shook with fear, and I tilted my head back, squirming as I pulled against the ropes again.

“So what’s your plan now?” I demanded. “What could you hope to accomplish by this? Michael has everything that belongs to me—the house, the deeds, everything— and you’ll never get me back. I’d rather die than let you near me again.”

“You think I want you back?” He turned, folding his arms over his chest. “My brother’s whore?”

He chuckled to himself and walked over to me.

“Oh, no,” he replied, looking smug. “I can do so much better than you. And as for Michael having everything, that’s easy. The dead don’t own property.”

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