Broken Trust: A Dark High School Romance(22)

There was murder in Beck’s eyes, and now that I was no longer looking at him with my own anger, I could finally see—and feel— his fury. Beck was absolutely vibrating with it, and that’s when I knew that the threat was very real. That someone had managed to make it into the Delta compound, and they had managed to deliver their threat.

“Why me?” I whispered, hugging myself to try and ward off my own fear.

Beck made a low, angry growl. “You’ve given them an easy target. The sole female heir. Living out here on her own. Outside of our protection, without our training, and publicly rejected by all of us so that you appear even more vulnerable.”

Fuck. I tried to think it through. In my desperate attempt to distance myself, to not rely on anyone, I had done exactly what Beck said. On the other hand, running back like a scared little bitch, would send the wrong message too.

“Do you have my gun?” I asked.

Beck stepped into me so suddenly that I didn’t even have time to register it before his arms were around me and he had me back, pressed against the wall, my feet dangling as he held me off the floor. He didn’t say anything, just let his heavy, angry breath wash over me as his eyes flared with storm clouds. The moment that delicious, spicy scent of Beck hit my nostrils, I fought my body’s urge to wrap my legs around him and bring him closer to my aching pussy. Fuck. Fuck him and fuck me for being so goddamn weak.

“Put me down,” I said, using anger to hide my arousal.

“Stop. Fucking. Pushing me. Butterfly,” Beck bit out, his jaw solid as he clenched it.

I jerked my head up, anger and stubbornness fighting within me. “I’m fine, Beck. I don’t need Delta. I don’t want Delta. Just give me my gun and I’ll defend myself.”

I gulped at the small tic high in his jaw as he continued to hold me like I weighed nothing. What would happen if I pushed him over the edge? A tiny, stupid part of me kind of wanted to see. The much smarter, larger parts knew, though, that I might not survive it. At least not with my heart intact.

He dropped me suddenly, and I felt light headed at the loss of his warmth and scent. “I’ll take the couch,” he said, storming from the room in a few long legged strides.

What? I mean … what?

I hurried out to find he’d already started to rearrange my couch, throwing all the cushions off and dropping a pillow and throw over the way-too-small for him piece of furniture. “You can’t stay here,” I said breathlessly and half hysterical. “I refuse to let you. This is my apartment. My sanctuary. I will call the police.”

He laughed dryly, and his mask was back in place now. That arrogant, I don’t give a fuck look he wore so well. “Do it, Butterfly. I probably owe them a timely reminder of who owns this town and pays for their service.”

My fists clenched as I fought back a scream. He couldn’t do this! Fuck!

Throwing my hands in the air, I swung around and stormed into my room, cursing that there was no door. I hadn’t expected I would need one in my own apartment. After triple checking my locks on the glass doors—they were all secured—I climbed into the bed and noisily punched my pillows. Huffing a few more times, I settled back into the bed and closed my eyes, more than a little aware that Beck was only a few feet away from me.

I could hear him ditch his jeans and shirt. Use my bathroom. Slide in under the throw. Muthafucker.

Making himself at home like he was the one who owned this place. I angrily rolled over, and then back again, over and over, tossing and turning as I fumed. All the while fighting the hot burn of tears that were choking me. I would not give him the satisfaction. I’d already cried too many tears over that asshole; he deserved no more.

Eventually, I must have fallen asleep, somewhere mid-angry memory, and the next thing, I was locked in my nightmare world. Everything was gray-scale, the only color the splash of red whenever blood spattered across the scene. My hands trembled as I held a gun, and this time, the one in the chair was Beck. He watched me without expression, his eyes locked on mine like I was the only thing in the world he would ever see.

Like I was the last thing in the world he would ever see.

“I trust you, Butterfly,” he said, and I sobbed loudly, tears blurring my eyes. “Pull the trigger.”

“No,” dream me screamed. “No, Beck. I can’t.”

He showed no fear, and it felt like my hands lost all feeling, as I no longer had control over them. Just like a puppet being controlled by the puppeteer, I lost the ability to stop the tragedy from unfolding. My finger squeezed down on the trigger, and I screamed out loud, but it was the same as always. The same as the half a dozen times I’d had this dream since I’d killed the Huntley operative. The crack of the bullet, the heat from the gun, the recoil as my hand jerked, and the thud as the bullet pierced Beck’s skull, wiping the light from his eyes.

I screamed and cried and thrashed as I fought against my puppetmaster.

“Butterfly!”

The soft voice started to penetrate my pain, and I slowed my fight, even though hot tears still seeped out from under my closed eyes.

“Butterfly, please. You need to wake up now, because you’re killing me. I will fucking destroy your new place, because if my anger doesn’t go somewhere...”

“Beck?” I whispered hoarsely, the fact that it was only a dream finally registering. My heart still pounded like it had been real, but the warmth of the man wrapped around me, brought me back to reality much faster than usual.