Page 97 of Vicious Deception
Nodding again, I gingerly touch the back of my head. It stings, and I wince. “Mostly.”
From below, Thomas groans and does his best to sit up. I’m pretty sure he was unconscious for a few seconds, so I bet he has one hell of a concussion. Rhett turns his attention toward Thomas, holding onto me for another second before stalking down the stairs.
I lean against the wall, watching as Rhett grabs the collar of Thomas’s shirt and hauls him into a sitting position.
“What happened?” he demands.
Thomas grimaces at his harsh tone. His head slowly turns until he’s looking at me. “She . . .”
“No,” Rhett spits out.“You.You fell, all on your own.”
“No . . . no, she . . .”
“You fell.” Rhett hoists Thomas up, drags him to the next flight of stairs, and throws him down it. “And that was you falling again.”
“Rhett!” I fly down the steps and grab his arm when he moves to follow Thomas. “Don’t.”
Thomas manages to lift himself up enough that he can lean against the wall. His shirt is stained with blood.
“He deserves worse,” Rhett growls.
“Not if we’re going to get away with it.” I tug on his arm, pulling him back as a door opens a few flights above. Lowering my voice, I say, “If he’s too badly hurt, no one will believe it was an accident.”
“Wren?” my mom calls. “Thomas?”
“We’re down here,” I yell back. “Come quick! He fell down the stairs.”
As Patricia descends, Rhett and I make our way down to Thomas. He kneels, leaning in close.
“You fell, you bastard. Unless you want me to haunt you for the rest of your miserable life.”
Thomas whimpers, shakily nodding.
“How did you know where I was?” I ask Rhett.
“I was waiting for the elevator when I heard you yelling in the stairwell,” he says just as my mom comes into view. “I—”
“Thomas!” Patricia shrieks. She runs down the last set of stairs and drops to her knees in front of him. “Oh my god!”
“He hit his head,” I say, not having to feign the way my voice trembles. Thomas scared the shit out of me.
“What happened?” she demands. “Look at him! His arm!”
For the first time, I spend more than a split second staring at Thomas. His one arm is bent at an unnatural angle. Fucking bastard deserves it.
“This came from afall?”Patricia stands, whirling to face me. “Wren, if you’re lying to me—if this was some petty revenge—”
“That’s enough,” Thomas rasps.
“But—”
“No,” he snaps, wincing from the force of it. “I just tripped. You think Wren could get the best of me in a fight? Come on, Patricia, just look at her.”
My mind rages to say otherwise, to prove him wrong, but I keep quiet. There’s a reason my mother accused me of being petty—becausesheis. She’ll call the police on her own daughter even though she knows damn well that what I did was in self-defense.
Mostly.
“I’d say he needs an ambulance,” Rhett says. “I’d know. My dad’s a doctor.”