Page 34 of Twisted Redemption

“Brooke!” David hollers as he bangs on the door.

I scan the room. There are books, a computer, my tablet, and a few picture frames. “Glass,” I say.

I hear Alex protest, saying something about cutting myself. But I’m already tossing Angel onto a chair and hanging up.

Taking a picture of me and my mother, I smash it against the edge of the desk. Glass flies everywhere, and Angel hisses. I tear off my jacket and wrap it around one of the bigger shards.

Odds are, I’ll never be able to get close enough to David to use it. But it’s certainly better than nothing.

Just as I turn to face the door, it finally flies open. David crashes in and lunges for me. “Where is it, you little bitch?”

I scramble to the far wall and hold out the piece of glass. “Come near me and I’ll cut you.”

David laughs. His eyes are crazed, surrounded by dark circles. “You think you can defend yourself from me? I told you, my love. You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

He steps forward and grabs my wrist before I can even react. With a sick smile, he twists until I cry out in pain and drop my jacket—and the glass with it.

“You never were one of the smart ones,” he says, pinning me to the wall beside the shelf. “I suppose that’s why I was able to fuck so many chicks behind your back.”

I try to knee him in the balls, but he slaps me across the face with full force. My head slams into the shelf. Pain radiates through my skull, but it doesn’t come near to what I feel in my heart.

So many chicks?

There was more than one.

“How did you get in?” I try to squirm away from him, hoping my question would be somewhat of a distraction, but it’s no use.

“You think I couldn’t guess the code for your security system? When we were together, it was our anniversary. How fitting that you changed it to the date you left me. Did that make you feel good about yourself?”

I almost laugh. He thinks I changed it to that date because it was when we broke up?

No. No, I changed it to that because it’s the day I realized I’d ruined everything.

“Where’s the drive, Brooke?” He grips my chin with such strength I think he might leave bruises. “Just give it to me, and I’ll leave.”

“I threw it out,” I say weakly, trying to wiggle out of his hold. But it’s no use—my physical efforts or my verbal ones.

“You think I can’t tell when you’re lying? You’re far too emotional to be good at it. Now tell me what you did with it.” He pulls me forward, just to slam me into the wall with such force it leaves me breathless.

Too emotional.

You cry too much.

Be more like your brother.

A need fills me—a need to hurt this man as much as he’s hurt me. To completely and utterly destroy him. So I glare into his eyes, the ones I used to love so much, and say, “You’ll never get it back. My brother and the Graysons have it, and they’ve already gotten past your pathetic security measures. You and Tristan are going down.”

Anger flashes through his eyes. He slaps me again before burying his fist in my stomach. I double over, and he lets me fall to my knees.

As I try to get my breath, he grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks me back up.

I know it was a mistake. I shouldn’t’ve told him anything. But I couldn’t help it.

And now I’ll pay the consequences.

“You’re coming with me, my love. It looks like you’re still of use to me.” David drags me out of the office. When I struggle, he knees me in the stomach and forces me into the living room.

As soon as we pass one of the coffee tables, I make a grab for the lamp. But David catches my actions and throws me to the ground.