Chapter 18
PHEROMONES
Bronte
Ifucking hate nightclubs.
They open past a normal bedtime. They’re literally deafening.
They’re expensive with no reason to be. They’re filthy, sticky, sweaty; perfect breeding conditions for germs and viruses and diseases to mingle and spread.
Not to mention, they’re the public hunting grounds for the true predators of our world: rapists, trafficking mules, murderers.
Voodoo she can handle being her own white knight.
No, I’m here to make her ex-fuckboy jealous.
Bitter rage rears its spiteful head. I let it shove me back, back into my own mind. Where I hide in the shadows and watch.
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