Reject You to Break You (To Reach You Book 2)

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Royally Screwed

Song: Dead by Madison Beer

Ridge-

"Alright, what did you fuck up and how bad is the damage?" Uncle Harris says, plopping next to me on the couch. 

"I fucked up,"

Uncle Harris was the baby brother, in his early thirties now, with only two twin toddlers, there was a giant age gap between him and dad, and that made him easily one of us. 

He chuckles. "That much I gathered, son, that girl you brought here, the one that lives here now...she your mate?" 

I nod, grimacing. 

"Ahhh, and thus lies the problem, so how bad does she hate you?"

"How do you know it's her?"

"Boy, only one girl can fuck with the famous Ridge Monroe's mood, and I'm guessing it's that pretty girl with that big mouth and spunk about her, and don't even try denying it--"

"I kissed her,"

"And she kissed you back,"

That still dazed. How fucking good her lips were against mine, how warm it was between it was between her legs, how she gripped my hair when my mouth sucked her neck. 

It wasn't supposed to be like this for me. It was supposed to teach her a lesson, that she's mine and only will ever be mine, no matter how hard she tries to change it. I don't like her and I know that can never change, and the hate she feels for me is unreplaceable too, but I'd just wanted to torment her for a bit. I was bored and I decided to hit two birds with one stone. Make her feel what she would never have and have some entertainment. 

It's not like I didn't hate her now. I still did, that won't stop. Dislike that deep could never change. Not overnight and not ever. And I already knew the feeling was mutual. Just because I now had the knowledge that sex with her would be phenomenal, doesn't mean I would ever touch her again. I wasn't stupid. 

The doorbell rings, vibrating through the entire house, and I pause, turning to Harris, who shrugs, seeming just as clueless as me. 

Dylan whistles, opening the door and I glance behind me, face paling. 

North looks as impassive as ever, hooded eyes cluing me in on her boredom. But the rest of her is not boring. Ripped jeans, a low-cut black shirt, with the word STRIPPER + BITCH = ME slashed out in white. What the fuck? 

"You want to know the guy who was in Caste's room that day? You know, the one who almost killed me...I have his way...you coming?" She says it like it's the most casual thing in the world, still scrolling down her phone. Dylan whirls his head to face me, eyebrows raised. Cayne's eyes widen, looking from me to North, who smirks, still not looking up. 

"I'm sorry, did your family not know about our little investigation?" she says innocently, batting her eyelashes. "But you must've told them about the revelation that your accident wasn't an accident?"

All my family falls silent and mom, coming out of the kitchen gasps, turning her eyes to me. "How...how..." she trails off, eyes looking heartbroken. "It was your father who told you, wasn't it?" She sounds a bit lethal now. 

I shake my head. "North has a friend in the police, he found the case,"

"Oh, Ridge, I'm sorry, baby, I couldn't tell you, it hurt too much, knowing my baby was...I couldn't make you feel so unsafe," momma's lips trembled and tears shone in her eyes. I felt guilty for not telling her that I knew earlier. Dad's arm comes around her. 

"We have guards all around you, just because you don't see them doesn't mean it's unsafe, Ridge, you are going to have nothing to do with this," Dad's using that commanding alpha's voice, trying to get me to actually listen. Not. Happening. 

I stand up, grabbing my keys and phone. "Dad, you do realize they tried to kill me? If I don't do something...dad I won't be a fucking pussy like that...I want them to fucking pay... and I want to be there to collect the price." I say, gritting my teeth. 

They wanted me dead. They robbed me of my life while still keeping me alive. Who are they to do that? No. They don't get to take my life and leave. It isn't the way the world works. 

I want--I need--to see them bleed. 

Dad must see the unnegotiable look in my eyes because face hard, he nods. "It's not like the guards aren't following your every move anyway, you're watched and the minute they smell something funny, you're out, got that?" The alpha voice again. I nod. Just as long as I get to do something. 

"Alright," she types an address into my car's GPS, and the direction starts. 

"This is half an hour away," I protest. 

"I can read, Monroe, drive,"

"Fine," I spit, facing the window. "Where is the place anyway?" 

"This is Kyle Jacobs' home," she says, too nonchalantly. Where had I heard that name before?

***

So...Thoughts? Kyles Jacobs...that name ring a bell to anyone?

Laters,

Reagan