Page 97 of Midnight Curfew

He hates everyone.

I swallow the sobs, lifting my eyes to him. “I told you once that I felt like shit all the time,” I murmur, “and that I envied my father because he could do anything and not feel like shit.”

That green fire burns in his eyes as he looks at me like I’m dirt, and I know now that he’ll never look at me any other way.

I continue. “I now realize that people who never feel like shit are always sick.”

Just like my father.

Dallas is no different. No guilt, no shame, no remorse.

It’s not human.

And I still envy it.

Growling, I push him to the floor, pinning him with my forearm on his neck.

“I may not be as hard and as ruthless as you,” I spit out, “but I’m young, and I have almost unlimited resources.”

I attacked Liv, because if I couldn’t get him to love me, then I wanted him to feel anything else.

Nothing has changed.

I bite out, “There will come a time when you won’t be able to go a day without dealing with me.”

He digs a fist into my ribs, a crack followed by a searing pain. I topple over, breathing hard.

He rises and whips open the door, knowing in no uncertain terms that I won’t be an enemy he wants in ten years. Or even five.

“It’s a matter of pride, Dallas,” I gasp as he walks out.

I learned from the fucking best.

15

Dallas

Bursting through the antechamber door, I slam it closed again.

The two women who checked us in go still, darting their eyes to me, but they don’t gasp or run. They’re no doubt used to weird shit.

Five.

Six.

The bells chime, and I race to the shelves, shoving Callum’s phone onto the floor, out of the way. Seizing mine, I charge to the other door, whip it open, and dash up the stairs.

Seven.

Eight.

Maybe he just wants to enjoy seeing me run or maybe he’ll give chase. Either way, I’ve had my fun. I don’t need to stick around to see his new little friend blow him.

If I ever had one ounce of respect for Callum, it was for his taste in warm bodies. He may have wanted Clay at his side in high school, but out of all my brothers, I was the one he wanted in bed.

I mean, of course.

But the fucking hairdo on that other guy? And the shoes? He definitely pisses sitting down.