Corrupt(101)

I jerked my hand back as I watched the basketball that had hit the door bounce to the ground and roll away.

“You’re not leaving,” Michael’s voice came behind me.

I reached for the door again, but he came and grabbed my arm, whipping me around.

“Let me go.” I tried to yank my arm free. “I won’t stay here!”

“We’re not going to hurt you,” he gritted out, and I could see blood on the knuckles of the hand he had wrapped around my arm. “No one is going to hurt you. I promise.”

“Let me go!”

But then I straightened, rearing back as I looked over his shoulder at what was coming behind him.

Michael turned around, facing Damon. He wiped blood away from the side of his mouth as he charged toward us.

“Get out,” Michael ordered.

Damon shot him a scowl and then locked eyes on me, grabbing the door handle as Michael pulled me out of the way.

He stared into my eyes, and what I saw there was no longer dead. His glare coursed right through me and coiled around my neck.

Yanking open the door, he left the house, slamming it behind him.

I let out a breath, my shoulders dropping.

But then I felt a hand brush my cheek and heard Michael’s voice. “Are you okay?”

I jerked away, slapping his hand off me. “Fuck you.”

He dropped his hand and straightened, keeping his distance. He knew he’d f*cked up. What they’d done tonight was unforgivable.

“Fucking Trevor,” Will grumbled, charging into the foyer. “I can’t believe it.”

“He always hated us,” Kai added, coming in behind him.

Michael exhaled and turned away. Walking over to the stairs, he sat down and buried his head in his hands, looking completely defeated.

Yeah, it must be a bitch to realize you wasted three years hating the wrong person.

Chills broke out over my skin, and the heat that had covered my body before was now gone. The wet clothes stuck to my skin, and I shivered.

All this time, I thought I was insignificant to him. A stupid kid, barely worth his time. A mistake he’d made one night long ago that he barely remembered. But now I knew that, not only was that not true, but he’d spent three years planning how to hurt me?

And he was going to let his friends hurt me, too.

Tears welled, and I clenched my teeth, hardening my jaw, to keep them away. He didn’t f*cking deserve them.

Stepping slowly toward Michael, I demanded, “Where is my mother?”

He combed his fingers through his hair and looked up, his eyes weary. “California,” he answered. “She’s in a rehab in Malibu.”

“What?” I blurted out.

Rehab? My mother would never agree to that. She wouldn’t leave the safety of her home or friends. She wouldn’t leave what was familiar.

“I had a judge sign a court order, forcing her stay,” he clarified as if reading my mind.

I inched closer, narrowing my eyes on him. “You forced her?”

“What everyone should’ve done a long time ago,” he argued, his voice firm. “She’s fine. Perfectly safe and taken care of.”

I turned my head away, closing my eyes and running a hand over the top of my hair.

Rehab. So they weren’t hurting her then.

But…

But if Michael wanted to hurt me—if he thought I’d betrayed him—why would he do something that would ultimately help my mom? Why not just lock her in a basement somewhere like I’d thought?

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Why haven’t I been able to get a hold of anyone?”

I now knew why my mother had been unreachable. She probably wasn’t permitted a cell phone in rehab. But Michael’s mother, his father’s cell phone, Trevor, our housekeeper who was out of town…

“Because you haven’t been calling anyone,” Michael admitted, looking up at me with a flat expression. “During Trevor’s party, Will went into your car and took your phone, replacing everyone’s numbers under their names. You’ve been calling a fake phone we set up.”

My fists curled under my arms, and I dropped my eyes, seething. I couldn’t f*cking look at him.

How had all this happened? Why hadn’t they confronted me sooner?

“We were so sure it was you,” Will chimed in. “I woke up, saw the videos online, and I panicked, realizing I’d left the phone in my sweatshirt at the warehouse.”

He could barely look at me.

“And then Michael saw the sweatshirt hanging on a kitchen chair the next morning, and we finally figured out through Damon that you’d worn it home. You were mad at Michael, feeling rejected, so we...we just…”

He trailed off, the rest not needing to be said.

I glared at Michael. All this time. All these years he could’ve confronted me…

But that was him, I guess. He pushed forward no matter who it hurt, always believing he was right and never apologizing. At least I could see the regret in Kai and Will’s eyes.

With Michael, nothing. The more mistakes he made, the taller he tried to stand, so no one could see over him. So no one could see anything but him.

I shook my head, my eyes burning as I stared at him. Say something!

How could he just sit there after everything we’d…?