Wreck Me (Corrupt Legacy Series #2)

Searing anger fires up my body, making me hot. It’s not one of my proudest moments, but in times of war, any trick will do.

Dane swims away, and I push my head up and down the surface, pretending to drown. But the sheer panic I catch in his eyes as he plunges into the water to reach me has me nearly aborting my plan.

I remember he lost his father, and guilt shoots an arrow straight into my chest. I feel so horrible that when he pulls me up, I blurt out, “I’m sorry.”

He realizes the deceit and shakes his head, but when he turns his back to me, I drape my arms around his neck and lock my legs around his waist, desperate to hold on to him.

He breathes heavily, every muscle in his body tensing.

“I wanted to get back at you,” I murmur.

“Well, you did. What do you want to hear? Congratulations?” His voice turns so cold, icicles pierce along my spine.

“You’re manipulative. You’re cunning. I guess they were right.”

I thought there was no way for someone to break my heart even worse. Yet, he just did. This is what I deserve for being vulnerable.

He saw a part of me no one has ever seen—a part no one will ever see—and now he punishes me for one thoughtless mistake.

That’s why I don’t let people in. I am ugly on the inside. I am not worthy of love. I am just a doll, beautiful only on the outside. Maybe nature made me like this to hide the monster under my skin.

The moment I’m in my bedroom, I yank off my wet clothes and turn on the shower. Slamming my palm against the wall, I drop my head. Her hurt expression haunts me. But damn, that girl. I thought she was going to drown, and that fear I experienced was something I’d never known before.

But she played me. If everything is a game to her, then let’s play.

Getting out, I dry myself. Changing into a pair of sweatpants, I snatch up a bottle of whiskey I hid in my closet. I drop on the couch, thoughts of Abigail inundating my mind. She’s infusing my bloodstream, and I don’t have a fucking antidote.

It’s a dangerous thing to allow my thoughts free rein, so I drag myself to bed. But sleep is harder earned than any pole position.

The next day, everyone talks in the hallway about the party as if it were the best night of their lives. Maybe for them it was.

In class, when she takes the seat next to me, I open my mouth, but the teacher walks in.

When she starts with today’s lesson, Abigail’s pencil glides along the blank page with elegant precision.

I snatch the paper from under her, offering her a smile as I write, Friends?

She eyes me skeptically, and I cross my heart before I mouth. I promise, I’ll behave.

She bends over the page and writes, You’re not serious. Stay away from me.

That I truly can’t do, I reply.

Remember last night? You were mad at me.

So what? We can be mad at each other and still be friends.

I don’t believe your intentions are friendly at all.

This girl will be the death of me. She’s the perfect combination of smart, beautiful, and mesmerizing that will wreck me.

I stare at the note, not wanting to lie to her.

When the class ends, neither of us moves.

Her hands lay tucked on her lap, and her face is downcast. I can feel her struggle as if it were my own. Playing games would be the stupidest thing with the girl I know is meant to be mine. I am not playing for the game’s sake, but I intend to win her.

I take her hand in mine, her soft skin feels good in my callused one. Interlacing our fingers, she sighs.