“Aren’t you going to kiss me goodbye, Ryken?” Amy asks, standing offering me her cheek. If I could skin anyone, it would be her. Just so she can see her black insides aren’t as pretty as her false exterior. Maybe she should work on that?
“I don’t kiss trash.”
“That’s my wife, Ryken,” Antonio says.
“That’s your problem, not mine.” Walking out, we don’t look back. What’s the point? We don’t want to engage with her. If there was a hellhound, she’d be it. She’s just like the fictional demonic dog. A guardian to the entrance to the world of the dead, with her foul odor and poisonous saliva. She skulks in the shadows, and you’re doomed to die. If she locks eyes with you, it most definitely could be a death omen. So if Amy’s around, you should run for your life because more than likely she’ll be on your heels before you can do anything to save yourself. One word—hellhound—it’s an excellent description for Amy.
The minute we get to the car, Quinn starts it then shakes his head as he pulls out. “He’ll find the best fighter he can.” I nod. “He’ll make sure he fights dirty. You know that, too.”
“I know,” I say to him.
“Is she worth it? Really worth it? We never cared if girls got taken before. Fuck! We do the taking. Yet, you care so much about this one. Even though you don’t want her. Am I correct?”
“Livia was the right choice,” I say, trying to remind myself of that fact.
“Was she? Your father isn’t right about everything, you know. One thing I can say for sure is he was never right about the women in his life.”
“I know, but I don’t want to be reminded.”
“She isn’t pregnant, is she?”
He obviously heard, but he hadn’t brought it up until now.
“She isn’t.”
“She’s a good liar. That talent will serve her well in court.”
I don’t say anything to him. Because I hadn’t really even processed the fact that she was pregnant in the first place, let alone now she isn’t. She sprung that shit on me when she knew Barbie might be a choice to make. She told me a lie. I think Livia knew I would have chosen Barbie if she wasn’t pregnant, and sent her to Antonio instead. Well, as it turns out, it’s a damn fake pregnancy.
“She’s blowing up your phone.” I look down and Quinn’s right. Livia’s ringing. I let it ring out to see five missed calls, all from her. Then it rings again, but this time I answer it. Because I know she won’t stop otherwise.
“What do you want, Livia?”
“You can’t leave me, Ryken.”
I laugh at her. “We had this discussion about you telling me what you think I can do.”
She huffs into the phone. “I love you.”
My hand scruffs over my face. She thinks those words will work, that they’re magical, a cure for everything. She doesn’t know shit. She’s never had to not love someone in her life. It’s always been handed to her on a platter.
“That won’t work anymore, Livia.” She starts to cry. “Neither will that shit,” I say groaning.
“Saskia doesn’t know how to love. She’s broken. Why are you chasing her, and not here fixing us?”
“Maybe I don’t want to fix us anymore, Livia.”
“Don’t say that, Ryken. Don’t.”
“I said it. Now stop calling, Livia.” I hear her cry again before I hang up.
Quinn coughs but doesn’t comment.
“She’s doing my head in,” I say, referring to the headache she gives me, every fucking time.
Maybe I don’t really love her the way she deserves to be loved?
Maybe we just aren’t molded to fit together anymore?
“Block her,” Quinn says, and that’s what I do.
Chapter Seven
Saskia
Amy’s hands are hitting me, hard. Why, I’m not sure. But they’re coming down fast and consistent while she’s swearing at me. Telling me what a piece of shit I am. And all I can do to protect myself is try to stay in a ball on the floor, where she pulled me from my bed to hit and kick me.
Why? I have a feeling she wouldn’t tell me even if I asked. It seems she doesn’t like me, and it’s all I get. Why she doesn’t like me, I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve done anything to her. Hurt her in any way. But as each hit lashes my body, I wish I could be anywhere but here right now. Blood pools in my mouth and I try my best to protect my face, but it does me no good. Then she kicks me in the ribs, bruising them worse than they’ve ever been hurt before.
“He thinks he can speak to me like trash.” She laughs and stops.
I don’t dare move, I don’t even try to.
“He’s lucky I don’t send you back to him in fucking pieces.”