“You don’t have to. I’m fine to be on my own.” Her voice lowers. “I’m used to this.”
“Well, I’m not. This is highly oppressive behavior.” She stares at me. Again.
“I’ll ask for your opinion when I find any fucks to give,” I tell her point-blank.
She’s about to speak, but Annika slaps a hand over her mouth, putting whatever retort she had to an abrupt end.
I usher my sister into the car, and Cecily follows her into the back seat. She glares at me through the rearview mirror during the entire car ride, even as Annika tries to change the subject and drive away the tension.
Me?
I want to see how those glittery green eyes would look when she’s being pounded into within an inch of her life.
The hassle isn’t worth it, though.
I slide my finger up and down the steering wheel, summoning patience I don’t usually need in situations like these.
When we reach the dorm, Annika jumps out of the car and Cecily follows.
I roll down the window and say, “No more roaming around in dangerous places, Anoushka.”
“Okay!” she says and practically runs inside.
Cecily, however, faces me and crosses her arms, causing her breasts to perk and strain against the fabric of her T-shirt.
“I suggest you tone down the patriarchal tone. Doesn’t look good in this day and age.”
“I suggest you mind your own business. Busybody is a horrible description to have.”
She narrows her eyes. “You—”
“Don’t.”
She swallows, and the translucent skin of her throat works up and down with the motion. “You didn’t even hear what I have to say.”
“No need to. If you keep talking, I’ll take it personally, and believe me, you don’t want that.”
Her body stiffens, and I’m not sure if it’s because of my nonnegotiable tone or the look she must see written all over my face, but she doesn’t push it.
What she does do, however, is throw me a condescending glare, then slip into the dorm.
My lips curve because I’m so tempted to drag her into my lair.
Kicking.
Screaming.
And everything in between.
40
ADRIAN
Irealize something is wrong the moment I land at the airport.
People often say there’s no such thing as a sixth sense and that having the ability to predict danger is a mere myth invented by superstitious, evil-spirit believers.
However, that sixth sense is what alerted me to something being amiss and enabled me to take countermeasures. That, and my tight grip on critical information and the enemy’s sore, weak spots.