Page 124 of Off the Rails

If I didn’t leave that room right then, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from tearing her down from heaven and pulling her right down into hell with me. My body was thrumming with need. I needed to fuck her, to break her, to see her cry.

But that’s not what the cards wanted.

I’m supposed to get revenge. Not catch feelings. Not after what she did.

So as Tess cried out after me, I didn’t listen. I turned my back and fled, as far and as fast as my body would take me.

68

TESS

That fucking bitch.

The thought looped in my mind from the moment she stormed out the door, and it showed no signs of stopping. Normally, dancing was the way I blew off steam, but somehow, she’d ruined that for me too.

Throwing on my sweats, I marched down from the studio and back to Jungle Jolt. How dare she come into my sacred space? How dare she demand that from me and then leave without a word?

I was still fuming as I stomped up the stairs and threw open the apartment door. If she was home, she was in for a big fucking piece of my mind.

But when the door slammed open, disappointment flickered in my chest. She was nowhere to be seen — my rage had nowhere to go.

Instead, I found Nash sitting on the loveseat with her phone. Across from her, Blade sprawled across the couch with Cyrus’ laptop. Both of them were focused intently on their screens, hardly noticing that Butch was on the coffee table eating someone’s leftover sandwich.

“What’s wrong?” I frowned, taking the plate from the cat.

“Nothing. Just reading the news.” Nash sighed.

“Anything interesting?” Silence in the apartment was uncanny. Even Butch seemed on edge.

“A lot of overdoses in town.” Blade scrolled down a long list of deaths in the Valemont Chronicle. “Obituary’s wayyy longer than usual.”

Unease twisted in my gut. I tried to keep out of it, but I had my suspicions about whatever it was the Freaks did for work. Between their caginess about it and the sheer volume of cash they carried, there were only a few possibilities, none of which could be good.

A sudden interest in overdose deaths certainly narrows the options.

I crossed my arms as I took a seat on the far end of the chaise. I wanted to believe that ignorance was bliss, but despite myself, curiosity got the best of me. “Since when are you two so interested in the news?”

“I’m not,” Blade groaned.

Nash pinched her brow. “We’re looking for any updates on The Messenger shit.”

I narrowed my eyes at the laptop. “You’re not going to find it in Ye Olde Chronicle. All of Rubin’s shit exists on social media.”

“I tried telling her…” Blade whinged, but Nash just shrugged.

“Probably. But you’ve gotta try it.”

As she closed her phone, resignation pulled at the corners of her lips. But the frown quickly shifted to concern as she clocked the frustration on my face. “What’s wrong, Little Lamb?”

“Fucking Cyrus…” I huffed.

Hearing her name, Butch looked up at me like he’d been offered a treat. But when Cyrus failed to appear, he sulked off into her room, tail flicking in annoyance.

Blade sat up quickly. “Did something happen? Did she touch you?”

“No.” That’s half the fucking problem.

It sure seemed like she wanted to back in the studio. And seeing that hunger in her eyes stirred confusion in my chest. Did I… like the way she looked at me?