She’s not sorry, and I’m still hard.
She pushes herself up from the floor slowly, brushing the hair out of her face like she has all the time in the world. She doesn’t even look at the torn shirt or the blood on her arms. Doesn’t adjust the ruined jeans or check the eye that’s already darkening to a deep, ugly purple.
She just stares at me while smiling.
Like she’s proud of what she did.
“You look like s**t,” she says sweetly, her voice still hoarse from screaming and maybe from the way I’d choked her in that alley when she told me I wasn’t in charge.
“I am s**t,” I snap, stepping forward again before Echo blocks me with an arm. “You made sure of that.”
Echo eyes me cautiously. “I’m all for chaos, but maybe not in the goddamn club?”
Red’s laughing now, covering her mouth with her ha
