❝ EXCUSE ME, I HAVE TO GO KILL SOMEONE. ❞
❝ I REALLY HOPE SHE'S TALKING FIGURATIVELY. ❞
( BOOK TWO of FIGHT OR FLIGHT )
Scout Wiley was once in love with the abyss. It was her mistake for getting too comfortable. She knew she shouldn't have lie...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
9th of October Capital Plaza Apartments Quantico, Virginia
"REID, OPEN THE fucking door! If you don't, I swear that I will kick it down so hard that Morgan wished he had done it!"
Scout banged on the familiar door that continued to be etched into her brain after too many years. As she drove to the apartment, her body moved without direction. She wasn't in control. Instead, her hands moved along the steering wheel through muscle memory; occasionally she would look at herself in the rear view mirror, not recognizing the lines on her face.
Thirteen years was too long to hold this kind of - emotion.
If she was being completely honest, she didn't know what she felt anymore. It was all jumbled together in her brain, like she was a toddler and pouting at the fact that she couldn't communicate. She merely couldn't put it all into words.
Was it anger? Scout was angry - yes, that was true.
Who exactly was it directed to?
Herself? Reid? Her past? Her mistakes? The future that could have been? Or the future that she was currently living in?
"Reid!" The brunette banged again, ignoring the sting radiating from her knuckles. "I know you still live here, Asshole!"
She didn't. It was just a hunch.
"Don't ignore me! Just fucking open -"
The door swung, causing the woman to stumble back in surprise and try to regain her footing. She would've bit down on her own tongue if it wasn't for the figure that stared back at her with blistering eyes. Her jaw dropped, unable to close again.
The figure's brows rose before leaning against the door frame and crossing arms. It was the kind of relaxed position that held too much arrogance, especially when dressed in clothes - or rather, lack thereof - the way she that was.
"Wanted to see it for yourself, eh Wiley? I didn't peg you for the voyeuristic type."
Scout scowled at the taller woman, refusing to look at her long, bare legs and how her torso was barely covered by a loose dress shirt. She recognized that button up well.
"Nichols - " She fumed, wanting to scream at the top of her lungs and push her out of the way.
Apartment #23, from what she could barely make out, hadn't changed much. It made her feel uncomfortable that at a certain point in her life, Scout was living there as if it was her own home. She could almost make out the dark shadows and silhouettes of the furniture.
