51. Santiago #3
“This.” My jaw clenched. “This whole act you’ve been putting on until now, it was a sham just to make me…”
A sharp spike of rage shot through me, and I smashed the bowl with my bare hands, glass shattering everywhere. Ariyan immediately jumped to his feet, his eyes going wide.
“God, Santiago—”
“You went through all this trouble just to get me to fight for you?” I shook my head, ashamed of myself for believing this shit was real. “You fucking snake.”
“Now, listen to me.” He held his hand in front of him, as if to keep me away. “I have no idea what just got into you, but you have to calm down.”
“Fuck you,” I roared, my voice scraping my throat as I slammed my hand on the table, not giving a shit about the glass that cut through my skin.
My breath turned heavy as every muscle in my body trembled with rage. Rage so thick I could feel it bubbling inside me, mixing with the pieces of my heart this asshole just shattered.
“Like an idiot, I thought you cared. I thought that these last twenty-four hours meant something to you.” I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to even look at him. “But it all meant shit. It was just a damn act you put on.”
“That’s not true,” he said in return, but hearing him deny the truth only increased my anger until I exploded, and I turned the table over.
The breakfast I’d worked on, along with everything else, spilled onto the floor.
And a kitchen that only a minute ago was the epitome of my dream turned into hell.
“So what is true?” I hissed, feeling sick to my stomach. “For fuck’s sake, Ari, you lie so much that you wouldn’t even know it yourself at this point.”
“The truth is that I care for you—”
“Bullshit!” I screamed, shutting him up because I couldn’t listen to him spit more of those lies.
“The only truth here is that you don’t care if you hurt me, you never did, not as long as the result is what you wished for, right?
” I finally looked at him, only to see those vengeful eyes I was fool enough to fall for staring back at me.
I should have known better. I should have known he’d never change, as a tiger never changes its stripes.
“Answer me, damn it!”
“We had an agreement,” he snapped, raising his voice for the first time. “And you broke it, so cry all you want, but it won’t change the fact that you broke your side of the deal first.”
I held my lips tight, trying to contain the rage that steamed under my skin. I was bleeding, too, but his words hurt a thousand times more than the cuts.
“So that’s what I am to you, a fighting dog, nothing more?”
“And what if you are?”
His words slashed through my core, leaving me to bleed out.
“Fine, so I’m a dog, but what does it make you? I mean, you’re the one who sold himself to a filthy dog, right?”
His brows dipped, pain crossing his eyes before pure rage overtook his features.
“You’re saying I’m a whore?”
I held his stare. “You said it, not me.”
His audacity to play hurt at this stage was my limit, and I realized speaking to him was pointless.
Looking down, I saw the blood on my hands and decided it would be better and wiser to take care of it.
I turned my back to him and walked over to pull a bandage from one of the kitchen’s drawers.
I hadn’t even managed to take out the first aid kit before he was on me, holding my arm behind my back while pressing a fucking knife to my neck.
“T-the fuck’re you doing?” I gasped, out of breath, as he pressed the knife closer to my throat until the blade scraped my skin.
“What were you about to pull out, huh?” He twisted my hand behind my back.
“Fuck!” I grunted at the pain. “A damn bandage, you psycho.”
“Don’t lie.” He pressed the knife closer, and I glanced down to see that the drawer I’d opened also had knives inside.
“You’re fucking crazy—shit,” I hissed at the staggering pain. “If I really wanted to kill you, you think I’d go for the knife?” By now, I was sweating bullets because from the look of it, he truly was convinced I’d planned to stab him.
“Who knows. Men cannot be trusted.”
“Fuck!” I snarled. “You got it all wrong—”
He twisted my arm harder, jabbing the blade deeper until he leaned close, his lips ghosting my ear.
“The only thing I got wrong was believing you were any different.”
The blade of the knife wasn’t nearly as cold as his voice.
“Ari, please—”
“I should have put a bullet in your brain while I still could,” he hissed, then, in a split second, let go of me.
I lunged forward, one hand gripping the counter for support while the other was on my neck, my pulse roaring like a drumbeat in my ears as I checked the small scratch the blade left.
While I was still processing his words, Ariyan tossed the knife he’d almost used to slit my throat to the floor, grabbed his helmet, and stormed toward the door, saying nothing else on his way out.
I could have chased him. Fuck. I should have chased him, but instead, I dropped to the floor and buried my face in my bloodied hands, surrounded by the mess of my own making.