Page 127 of Made for Cyn
“Explain what?” Cyn says silkily, appearing behind Bastion’s shoulder.
My heart leaps into my throat but then shrivels when he looks me over with a blank expression. Gone is the man who stroked my hair out of my face, proclaiming me beautiful, and in its place is a cold void that resonates in my aching chest.
He cocks his head to the side. “Hmm? Explain what? That you lied? Or that you fucked my enemy and rode my dick afterward like a little whore?”
Flinching, I raise my trembling chin. Damn Iris for ruining this, but I know I’m equally at fault. I wiped the tenderness from his face. Me.
“I didn’t sleep with him,” I say, and my heart thuds painfully in my chest when his mouth curls in disgust.
“Hmm, I find that hard to believe. What I don’t understand is why your beloved cousin is the one delivering the message. What’s the real goal here, Rain?”
“It’s about . . . I don’t know. They want to hurt you. Listen—”
“No,” Cyn says, slashing his hand through the air. “You made a big mistake, baby. And now you’re going to pay. I suggest you heed Bastion’s warning because it’s about to get ugly up in here.”
“Cyn, I—” I start painfully, breaking off when one of his chick’s steps through the door and sidles up next to him, looking me over with vicious curiosity.
Smirking, Cyn pulls her into a sloppy kiss before looking back at me, but there’s no victory behind his eyes, not even a challenge. They’re dead, blank, and this, more than anything, pushes the breath from my lungs painfully.
I glance between him and her and even Bastion with a bitter smile, but the only reaction I get is from his girl, and I’m not fucking interested.
“So, this is it? You’re judging me? You? You’ve fucked half the student body, and I try to save myself,” I say, swallowing back a sob. With a tiny shake of my head, I say dully, “You’re a sick bastard, and I’m an idiot.”
With a cold smile, he flicks his fingers at me. “By the way, I don’t need your services anymore.”
“What?” I mutter, hefting my bag over my shoulder. My throat hurts with the need to scream, and I’m not sure how much longer I can hold back the tide.
“I’ve got the info I needed regarding Iris. Your usefulness is at an end,” he tosses over his shoulder before he turns away.
A laugh erupts from my chest, squeezing past my swollen throat, the bitter sound ugly in the air. “So, she was right all along. You were using me.”
He doesn’t bother to answer but steps back grimly when Iris comes barreling through the door with a snarl on her face. “C’mon, we don’t need these fucking dicks. Let’s get out of here.”
Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I follow behind her numbly, sliding into the car and bowing my head to my chest. Only as we’re pulling from the lot do I glance back.
Cyn still stands on the stairs, and he’s staring at me with such vicious intensity that I choke on a sob as I rub my aching chest and struggle to fucking breathe.
???
Iris calls her mom as soon as we get home. I sit through the show numbly, unsurprised by her ability to completely snow her mother with her fake concern. I hear Pam reassuring her over the phone, and with a pulse of pity for my aunt, I go to bed, and I don’t emerge for two days.
On Thursday, Iris pads into my room. “Mom’s on her way home. Clean yourself up.”
Blearily, I stare at her before nodding. She looks at me with a mixture of disgust and pity before walking away.
It takes all my energy, but I manage to shower and dress before sitting on the couch in the living room.
I don’t know how long I doze, but I’m still sitting in the same spot when Pam comes through the door with a worried look. Shortly after, we’re sitting before a uniformed police officer while we explain our concern over John’s mysterious disappearance.
When the man looks at me, I shift on the sofa and say, “Um, I went to a party, and when we came home, he was in bed, I guess, but the next day he wasn’t home. And later, we started to worry and called Pam.”
Truthfully, I’m numb, and I should be worried about how this will play out, but all I can concentrate on is the look on Cyn’s face when he iced me out.
It wasn’t frustration or even anger; it was pure hatred, and the notion that I did this weighs on me heavily. I don’t know if he was playing me or lashing out, and I’m scared of the answer.
But I’m also worried because he doesn’t know this was all about him and that dick Jagger. After all, I never got to warn him. Maybe he wouldn’t have believed me. I don’t fucking know, but I know I still have to try to inform him.
Except when I text him later, it won’t go through, and as I stare at my phone blankly, I huff out a breath because he blocked me with his own damn phone.