Page 89 of Ready Or Not

I grab her by the braids and yank her head back. I see the tears fill her eyes. “Riley.” I swallow to keep my voice from shaking. “That’s all over social media.”

“I wore a mask, dumbass.”

“You’re recognizable.” I give another sharp rip to the braids she branded her murder with. “You’re all over the internet, Riley!” My voice gets higher. I’m so out of control right now, and I can’t do anything about it.

“Send it to The Hunter’s Club. They should accept my application now.”

I lose it, my voice a yell, “I can’t protect you from this!”

“I didn’t ask you to!” Riley is finally screaming it at me. “I didn’t fucking ask you to, Manson!”

I can’t see straight. She’s swirling in front of me.

I let go of her so I don’t hurt her and step back, running my hand through my hair and pacing viciously. I can’t…I don’t know what to do. Riley looked so much like herself in that video; there’s no plausible deniability. I can protect her from a lot of things, but when social media gets involved, there are certain things I can’t erase from the public mind.

“Let me help.” I register the words before I associate them with Rachel. I glance over at her.

“I’m a hairdresser. I can help.” She crosses her arms.

I laugh bitterly. A haircut isn’t going to solve this problem.

“I’ll make her look different. We’ll cut her hair off, bleach it, get her some glasses, and we’ll erase her old social media accounts.” Rachel motions at Riley.

I try to suck in a few breaths.

“You’re not cutting my hair,” Riley scoffs.

Rachel crosses her arms. “You left it out. So we have to cut it off.”

“Fuck. That. You’re not touching my hair.”

And it’s that reaction that changes my mind. Like fuck does Riley get to deny help. Especially when we’re trying to save her from herself.

I nod at Rachel. “What do you need?”

47

Cold - Crossfade

Riley fights all the way up the stairs.

“You don’t get to run my life, Manson!”

I’m beyond reasoning with her now. Rachel follows at a safe distance, and when we get to the kitchen, I throw Riley down on a chair. She tries to kick me in the gut, but I dodge it, sitting on top of her and trapping her blood-crusted legs under mine.

Rachel stands in the corner until I wrestle one of Riley’s hands down and cuff it to the chair.

Riley screams at me, cussing me out relentlessly and calling me every name in the book. It’s only when I get her other hand pinned down that she quiets, panting for breath.

I glance up at Rachel. She nods, approaching hesitantly. “What kind of style do you like?”

“If you touch my hair, I’ll end you.” Riley thrashes.

I expect Rachel to cower, but she just huffs. “Hair grows back, Riley.” She grabs Riley’s two braids and pulls them back, undoing the ends.

“No!” Riley thrashes her head back and forth.

I dart my hand under her jaw, pressing her head back so far she’s staring at the ceiling, baring her pretty little neck to me and forcing her to stop moving.