Page 85 of Pucked Around and Found Out

The darkness inside me spreads, consuming everything in its path like wildfire.

And I don't fight it.

I embrace it.

“Do you know what she used that information for?” I continue, skating in a slow circle around them like a predator. “She used it to stay ahead of me. To protect the truth about that night. To keep me chasing ghosts while the real killer walked free.”

I stop directly in front of Cas, looking down at him with absolute contempt.

“But here's what really pisses me off,” I say quietly, dangerously. “You found out the same night I did at the house about Masen, didn't you? You didn't tell me about your deal with the CIA then because you were protecting yourself. Not because you didn't have a choice. But because telling me would have meant admitting you'd been compromised.”

Cas's eyes widen slightly—confirmation.

“You chose, in that moment, to keep your mouth shut about Fiona rather than help me finally get justice for Em.”

“It’s not what you think, I couldn’t—” Cas starts.

“You could,” I snarl. “You just didn't want to face the consequences of your betrayal.”

I gather another puck, but before I can shoot, Toren throws herself over Cas's body.

“No!” she screams. “If you're going to shoot someone with that puck, shoot me! I'm the one who lied to you! I'm the one who kept his file from you! Shoot me, Xaden!”

Her body is shaking violently, but she doesn't move. Doesn't cower.

She's protecting him.

Protecting the rat who betrayed me.

“Move,” I growl.

“No.”

“Move, Toren, or I put this puck through your fucking skull,” I say flatly, meaning every word.

“Then do it,” she snaps back, and there's fire in her eyes now. Not fear—fury. “Prove you're the monster you claim to be. Shoot a pregnant woman protecting someone she cares about. Add it to your list of atrocities.”

The words are designed to cut, and they do.

“You think I won't?” I skate closer, towering over her. “You think I'm going to have some moment of clarity? Some sudden attack of conscience?”

“I think you're full of shit,” she says bluntly. “I think you hide behind this monster persona because you're too terrified to feel anything real. Too scared to admit you might actually care about something other than revenge.”

“You don't know shit,” I snarl.

“Don't I?” She tilts her head, studying me with those sharp eyes. “Then shoot. Stop talking about it and do it, Xaden. Prove me wrong.”

The challenge hangs in the air between us.

And I hate—hate—that she's calling my bluff.

“Everyone thinks someone hurt me and made me this way,” I say, my voice dropping to something dark and honest. “They think I'm broken. Damaged. A victim of circumstance.”

I crouch down so I'm eye level with her, letting her see the truth in my eyes.

“But that's not it, is it?” I whisper. “I was always like this. Em's death didn't break me, it just gave me permission to stop pretending I was anything else.”

“Bullshit,” Toren says flatly.