CHAPTER 13: GO TO HELL, RIDER
ZARA:
When the screen of my phone pulsed with Rider’s name, my skin crawled. I scowled, gripping the phone tightly, tempted to smash the device against the floorboards. I ignored the buzzing the first time, then the second. But Rider wasn't a man who understood the concept of "no." He kept calling, the buzzing vibrating through the couch cushions like a persistent, annoying insect.
Eventually, I gave in, mostly just to get him to leave me alone. "What do you want, Rider?" I snapped, not even bothering with a polite tone.
"Zara," his voice came through, smooth and arrogant, the same voice that had once made me feel like the center of the world. Now, it just made me feel sick. "I want you to come back home."
I let out a sharp, jagged laugh. "Why? So I can
