Empire of Hate (Empire #3) by Rina Kent

They look gloomier than the gray sky and the pouring rain.

His fingers twitch and I’m not sure if it’s because he’s drunk or something else.

“I had to see you and tell you that—”

“You fucked Chris in your pool house? Astrid broke the news. Congrats and fuck off.”

“That’s not—”

He grabs a handful of my hair at the nape, stepping in the rain with me. His fingers are harsh, unforgiving, as he speaks so close to my lips, he’s almost kissing me. “I always knew you were a conniving, manipulative fucking bitch. Always. But I kept finding loopholes and conjuring excuses for you, kept thinking that maybe it’s your survival tactic after losing your father. I kept being drawn to you and seeing you and watching you, and it drove me fucking insane to even think of you as someone other than the bitch you were. And yet, I couldn’t help being attracted to you and wanting you more than my next breath. I’ve even abstained from fucking anyone else after that first night I had you.

“But now I realize it was all for nothing. The excuses, the twisted feelings, and my sappy thoughts that you’d change. Every. Fucking. Thing. You just like to toy with others, to manipulate them, then laugh in their fucking faces. Well, guess what, Nicole? I’m off that list, effective immediately. Don’t come near me, talk to me, or even look at me. I’ll pretend you don’t exist and erase the mistake of touching you from my head. From now on, you’re nothing.”

He releases me with a shove and I nearly fall to the ground. My tears mix with the rain and I don’t think he sees them. I don’t think he’s even seeing me right now.

But I crush my murdered pride and step toward him, my chin trembling. “D-Daniel…it’s not…not…what you think… Let me…”

“What’s going on…” a brunette peeks from behind Daniel in nothing but a bra and knickers.

Without sparing me a glance, Daniel grabs her by the throat and slams his lips to hers. His eyes meet mine as he drags her inside and slams the door in my face.

I crouch in the rain and let the tears I couldn’t shed earlier loose.

Everything is over.

And it hasn’t even started yet.





22





DANIEL





PRESENT





I’m going to punch a wall.

Or a door.

Or better yet, myself.

The only thing that stops me is the way Nicole is shaking and chanting, “Please don’t hurt me…don’t hurt me, Christopher.”

That lowlife Christopher.

The motherfucker that I should’ve nutted that first time I saw him hovering over her while she was pumped with E.

When I thought she meant to have sex with him.

Jesus fucking Christ.

What have I done?

I stare at Nicole’s tear-streaked face, at the tremor in her body and the glassy look in her light eyes. They appear lifeless. Dead.

She came back into herself earlier, cried the worst I’ve seen her, and fessed up everything as if she couldn’t stop. As if she waited her whole life to talk about that horrible experience. From the bits and pieces she told me just now, Christopher raped her in her pool house.

I told him to stop.

I begged him to stop.

That’s what she said. He hit her, too, and she recalled everything that happened to her afterward.

The pain.

The helplessness.

Everything.

All that took place when I was broken to fucking pieces after I heard from Astrid that she saw Nicole having sex with Christopher.

When, in fact, he was raping her.

When, in fact, she’d been silently screaming for help.

And because my ego is dick-shaped, I told Nicole she was nothing when she came to find me.

Just after she was brutalized by that fucking scum.

The small supply room’s walls close in on me, and I have to breathe deeply so as not to agitate her further. That’s what I do with clients with a fragile mental state—I become the anchor they can hold on to. The only difference is that I’m detached enough to do that with them.

I can’t be fucking detached with Nicole.

Not when her pain is bleeding in my fucking veins.

“Why didn’t you ask Astrid for help?” I ask, my jaw clenched so hard, I’m surprised it doesn’t dislocate.

“I wasn’t sure I saw her. I think I had…a concussion, and uh…I don’t know, but I was bleeding after he was…done.”

“Did you go to the hospital?” My voice imitates the calmest monk while my insides roar with a burning fire.

She frantically shakes her head. “I got better after a few days on my own.”

“Fuck, Nicole, fuck! Why didn’t you file a report?”

“I couldn’t!” Now she’s the one who’s screaming while she sobs. “Mum would’ve been so disappointed in me.”

“Your mother was a fucking criminal. She had no bloody right to be disappointed in you.”

“She was my mother. I didn’t know anything about what she’d done at the time, and what did you expect me to say? I asked a boy over and he raped me? Who would’ve believed me?”

“They would’ve believed the medical rape kit the doctor would’ve made. You said you were fucking bleeding.”