Series: Cobalt Empire Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 234
Estimated words: 226965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1135(@200wpm)___ 908(@250wpm)___ 757(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 226965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1135(@200wpm)___ 908(@250wpm)___ 757(@300wpm)
They go quiet. Motionless. I only hear the crunch of glass under Tom’s sneakers as he shifts his weight.
“To whom?” Eliot asks.
“Tate Townsend. I made a deal to stop him from messing with Winona. It obviously didn’t stick.”
“Shit,” Beckett curses with a deep frown, likely realizing why my rage was a level twelve that night.
Charlie cocks his head. “How’d you get the Adderall in the first place?” I hate how he’s always asking the hardest questions.
“Another friend.” It’s not a total lie. I am friendly with my therapist.
“You conveniently have many of those,” he says as if I’m so transparent.
“Maybe if you had a friend you’d understand,” I counter, the guilt balling up as soon as I launch a mini grenade.
Charlie arches his brows, unaffected. “You’re right, I have none. My definition of friendship differs from yours, and under my definition, I have a feeling you’d have only…one.” He snaps his finger and points at Harriet, then gives her a sardonic wave with the same hand.
She’s stiff as a board on her knees, unsure of what to do.
I rise to my feet and block her from his direct line of sight. Charlie lets out a dry laugh. “You think I’m going to hurt your little girlfriend? All you’re doing is showing me you have another vulnerability. Add that on to the never-ending list of ways to make you cry.”
“Because I’m so easy to attack.”
“Yeah, you are,” Charlie states plainly. “You are so suspectable to manipulation that you got conned into giving some prick Adderall, and he still drugged your former best friend—”
I shoot forward as rage blisters inside me, but Eliot is fast and captures my shoulders, tugging me away from Charlie who didn’t even flinch. Does Charlie want me to punch him? Is that it? Is he seeking a fist to the fucking face?
“Can we not?” Tom asks him.
I’m zeroed in on Charlie, and if he wants to feel something, then I know exactly where to strike. “The world thinks you’re so much like Dad, but you are a sick, malignant version of him.”
His Adam’s apple bobs, but his face carries no emotion. No response. “I guess that makes you the most pathetic version then.”
“No,” Beckett nearly groans, and I jerk in Eliot’s hold, trying to launch forward to hit my oldest brother. The urge bangs through me like a pinball made of corrosive metal.
Charlie weaves his arms casually over his chest. Then he leans over to peer past my body, eyeing Harriet. “Does this turn you on?” He’s referring to my anger.
“Fuck off,” I growl out.
“I’d say get thicker skin and maybe I will, but I don’t enjoy lacerating fragile things. I prefer ripping into people who can take it.” He’s calling me weak.
“People who can take it,” I repeat hotly. “Like Moffy?” They’ve been in so many fistfights. Yet, I’ve never been able to land a blow against Charlie. I could’ve injured him out of aggravation and pent-up fury so many times, but someone is always there to separate us. I can’t tell if it’s methodical. If he provokes me during moments where he knows it won’t end in physical violence.
Because when Moffy and Charlie go at it, blood is spilled. And it’s not as if Charlie is more scared of my fists—because our cousin is stronger than me…I guess in every way that matters to Charlie.
His jaw muscle tics. “You love Moffy so much then where is he now?” He makes a mocking show of canvassing the parlor with a cutting gaze. “Maximoff Hale, are you around? Your least favorite cousin wishes you were here.”
Least favorite. I try not to let it sting.
“Moffy loves you,” Beckett tells me with certainty. “Charlie, that’s enough.”
“It’s not even a morsel of what I could do.”
Harriet shoves past me. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Charlie only stares at me. “Let her fight for you. Maybe you’ll survive this harsh fucking world if you do.”
I blink a few times, my eyes searing raw. “I’m not defenseless on my own, Charlie. You think I don’t know when I’m being played?”
“If you do know and you willingly walk into a trap, then you’re not just naïve—you’re a fool.”
They can’t know I’m broke.
Ever.
My muscles cramp.
“Lay off him, Boy Genius.” Harriet glowers.
Charlie barely acknowledges her. “You’re not clever.”
“And I don’t believe you’re that smart,” she retorts. “You’re just a bitter fucking asshole.”
He’s about to respond when a shrill noise blares through the parlor.
WEE-WOO! WEE-WOO!!
It’s a siren. Fuck. My hands fly to my ears, the sound louder than a fire alarm. We’re all on our feet. My first thought is Harriet. She digs the heels of her palms into her ears and jerks her head to the door, signaling me to go. I rush over to it and turn the knob. Locked.
Shit—we’re still locked in here. I rake a hot hand through my hair. Beckett comes beside me, checks the exit too. His mouth is moving, but I can’t hear the words. When he repeats it again, I read his lips, Where is the noise coming from?