Branded (Fall of Angels #1)(61)

I jerk my head away from his grip, and say, “Put my clothes back on.”

“Ask nicely first,” he muses, smiling when I give him a scowl. God, he’s so fucking annoying.

“Please,” I add with sarcasm attached.

Apparently, it’s enough for him because he finally puts my clothes back on. Fuck me, am I glad. I don’t wanna lie naked in the dirt all night. If I’d tried to steal his gun again, he probably would make me do just that, knowing him. Not that I can … I’m still tied up.

“You forgot something,” I say. “Untie me.”

“Give me one good reason,” he says, snorting, looking amused.

I want to slap the grin off his face. “Haven’t you punished me enough?”

“No. Not nearly,” he responds while putting his pants back on. He walks over to the gun and picks it up, tucking it back into his pocket. My eyes can’t help but follow the metal, though. I can’t give up. No matter what he does to me or how filthy he makes me feel, I want justice. I don’t care what I have to do to make it happen. I owe it to my brothers. I owe it to me. Because I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t do something. And I know he knows that too.

“Why? Why do you think you have the right to punish me?” I ask. “You’re the murderer.”

“Are you trying to tell me you didn’t try to blow up the hotel?” he says, sitting down by the fire again so he can continue eating that disgusting snack of his.

“You hate your uncle!” I say, trying to sit up too.

“I never said that,” he replies, narrowing my eyes.

“Oh, really? Then why didn’t you bring me to him? Why did you go against his wishes? Shoot his fucking men?” I ask.

“Because they were trying to steal you away from me.”

I snort. I can’t believe this guy. “Really? That’s the reason?”

Chivalrous intentions. Bad outcome.

“If anyone’s going to punish you for your crimes, it’s gonna be me,” he says.

I make a face and then laugh. “That can’t be any more hypocritical.”

“Expensive words won’t get you out of this mess, Dixie.”

Oh, fucking hell. As if he’s the one to talk.

I shake my head and turn around. “Fuck this.” I’m done with this asshole and all the ways he can make me dance like some puppet.

With my hands still tied on my back, I scoot forward on my knees, away from the fire. Always. It’s slow and looks ridiculous as fuck, but I won’t stop either. I’m determined even though I know I won’t get away. At least I can hold my head up with dignity.

One glance behind me is one too many. Sighing, he throws the last bit of burned lizard aside and gets up off the ground. I make haste, but he follows behind me as I attempt to make my great escape. I huff and puff, toiling away while trying not to fall.

Still, he passes me with ease at a slow strut, towering above me with that smug face of his. God, how badly do I wish my hands were untied right now so I could pull his ankles and get him down to my level.

I try to pass him instead, but he keeps moving along with me, blocking my path. I growl out loud and grasp his legs, trying to drag him down, but it won’t work.

He chuckles. “Just give up already.”

No. Never. Giving up would mean admitting that it’s pointless. That my whole need for vengeance was pointless … that I am pointless.

So I keep going, despite his warning.

Within seconds, he’s grabbed my shirt and lifted me from the ground. I fight him, but it’s no use with my hands tied. He swiftly spins me around and sits down on top of me, forcing me to remain where I am.

I don’t wanna believe it, but I know in my heart there’s no escaping this man or the memory of him. It’s as though our lives are forever entwined in the worst ways possible when neither of us wants them to be.

Tears well up in my eyes. “Why won’t you let me be?”

“You know damn well why,” he says.

“No,” I reply. “I don’t.”

“Stop pretending you aren’t guilty,” he says, planting his hands on the ground beside my head. “Stop trying to snake your way out of this. You and I both know what you did.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

He keeps circling back to this topic, but I have no clue what the fuck he’s talking about. Every time, he tries to make this about me, as if I did something wrong, when he’s the one who destroyed me and my family.

“The lighter, Dixie. Stop faking ignorance,” he hisses, making a fist and pounding the ground.

I blink a couple of times. “What lighter?”

He fishes something out of the pocket of his pants. “This.”

It’s a metallic Zippo. The silver flashes in my eyes, forcing me to remember that night filled with smoke and fire.

The fire he started after I broke up with him.

And the Zippo I found right in front of the farmhouse.

I swore to myself I’d never forgive him for what he did.

“You set my family’s income on fire,” I hiss at him.

“So you do remember,” he says, licking his top lip.

“I saw you leave,” I reply. “Of course, I remember that night. And the one when you murdered my fucking family. What did they ever do to you?”