home » Romance » Jay Crownover » Better when He's Bold (Welcome to the Point #2) » Better when He's Bold (Welcome to the Point #2) Page 78

Better when He's Bold (Welcome to the Point #2) Page 78
Author: Jay Crownover

“You’re never responsible for the people you kill. Never stop to wash the blood off your hands, do you, Brysen?”

I still wasn’t following, so I just kept my mouth shut and stared up at him. I could feel tears burning in the back of my eyes, but after everything he had put me through, after he had pretended to be my friend just so he could torment me, there was no way I was going to give him the satisfaction of crying. I gave my hips an experimental wiggle to see if I could dislodge his weight and almost threw up when the action made him leer at me.

“I don’t have blood on my hands, Drew. You’re the one who tried to run me over, spied on me, and pushed me down the stairs. You’re the one covered in blood. What did I ever do to you to deserve this?”

I hollered out in pain as he lifted the gun and brought the butt of it down on the side of my head. I saw another galaxy. I felt agony, sharp and blinding from the strike, and immediately I had black spots dancing in front of my eyes. Drew used his hold on my hands to pull me up into a semi-sitting position and loomed over me.

He barked right into my face, “You don’t play by the rules. You think you’re better than everyone else and that you’re special.”

I absolutely didn’t think that, but it seemed stupid to argue when I heard bells ringing in my ears and had starbursts of pain exploding in my head. “This is because I wouldn’t date you? You want to kill me because I don’t have romantic feelings for you?”

I sounded confused and it wasn’t all because of the echoing hurt rattling through my brain. None of this was adding up and I needed to shake the cobwebs loose and figure something out. My sister needed me, Race needed me, and I wasn’t about to let either of them down by continuing to be a victim at the hands of this madman.

“No, you dumb bitch.” The gun clattered on the side of my head again and this time I felt my skin split open. The coppery and rusty scent of my blood wafted into my nose. My neck no longer felt like it could hold my head up and it flopped back heavily to smack into the side of the bed. “This has to do with you and your family thinking you’re above the law. That because you have money and connections, the law and justice don’t apply to you. Your mom ruined my life by being a dumb, drunken piece of shit—and what happened? Not a fucking thing. Your dad threw some money at the situation, at the pitiful, pathetic family from the Point. He talked to some people, and poof, it all went away. Meanwhile, my mom is strung out on painkillers and my little brother ate a bullet because he couldn’t stand the thought of being in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. And what happened to the Carters? You just get to go on living life like nothing happened. Your dad and your mom, even your perfect little sister, all happy and secure in a fucking bubble. You think you’re untouchable.”

Well, hell. I would be furious at my family if I was him as well. He let go of my hands, which had me falling back and raising shaking hands to hold my temples. If my head hadn’t been so fuzzy, I might have been able to use my legs to clamber away, but I was still having trouble fighting back the blackness that was trying to suck me under, and then he set the gun to the side and wrapped both his hands around my throat and started to squeeze. There was no way I was going to be able to fight. I tried clawing at his hands but he was intent, lost in his fury and rage. I wasn’t a person to him; I was just a means to an end.

“I left NorthCrest to come back home and try and help out my mom. She took the blood money your dad gave her, as well as my dad’s life insurance, and used it on pills instead of thinking about the future. Instead of thinking about me. NorthCrest is an Ivy League school. But with my dad gone and my mom strung out on opiates, there was no way I could afford to stay there. I came home, saw what your family had done to mine, and knew I had to take action. I transferred to the university under my mom’s last name and made sure I ended up in all your classes.”

While he talked he squeezed and squeezed and the darkness started to win. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel anything below my neck, and my hands started to fall limply to either side of me.

“I saw through the cracks. I knew your dad was a gambling addict and owed all the wrong kinds of people a lot of money. I knew your mom was as bad as my own—drunk, sloppy, and one step away from the edge. I knew your sister gets picked on at school because the almighty Carters aren’t really from the Hill and the other kids at her high school can tell. Everyone was failing, miserable, and bound to end up just like my own family; all of them, except for you.” As he said it he gave me a little shake like I was a rag doll and I squeaked weakly in response.

“You were supposed to fall in love with me. I was going to sweep you off your feet and then destroy you, ruin you, and leave your life in ashes, but you never let me in the front door. Then you moved home and slapped a big enough Band-Aid on things so the rest of the world could forget just how awful the Carters were. You held everything together when I wanted to watch it crumble, and for that you have to die. You have to suffer, and when I’m done with you I’m going after your sister.”

He shook me again, and I knew if I didn’t get loose he was going to choke me to death and go after Karsen. I couldn’t let that happen. I was trying to stay awake, trying to muster any amount of energy to fight back, when Drew suddenly let out a loud bellow and let me go. He scrambled to his feet above me, which gave me the space and opportunity to lurch to my hands and knees and crawl away from him.

Karsen was standing behind him with her hands over her mouth and her eyes leaking tears while she shook like a leaf. The butcher knife I had forgotten on the kitchen counter was embedded in Drew’s shoulder as he swore and danced around. Karsen grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet as I yelled at her to run. The gun Drew had brought with him was too close to him for me to try and grab as I hobbled to my feet and let my sister drag me down the stairs. My vision was flashing in and out, and it sounded like a river was rushing between my ears, but I knew I had to at least get her out of the condo before I passed out.

Search
Jay Crownover's Novels
» Charged (Saints of Denver #2)
» Built (Saints of Denver #1)
» Leveled (Saints of Denver #0.5)
» Honor (The Breaking Point #1)
» Better When He's Brave (Welcome to the Point #3)
» Better when He's Bold (Welcome to the Point #2)
» Rule (Marked Men #1)
» Asa (Marked Men #6)
» Jet (Marked Men #2)