Violence (Antihero Inferno Book 3)

by Lily White

  Ezra doesn’t scare me.

  Not anymore, at least.

  Not when he’s already ripped my heart from my chest and crushed it beneath his foot.

  What the hell else could he do to me that he hasn’t already done?

  “Speaking of my father,” he mentions with a slight tilt of his head. “Would you like to give me the real reason you’ve been over there?”

  No.

  Because I can’t.

  So I toss his words back at him.

  With a flutter of my lashes, I smirk. “To fuck him just like you said. And by the way, yes, his cock is much bigger than yours.”

  He takes a step toward me, but stops himself, his hand fisting by his side. “That’s not funny.”

  “I’m not laughing,” I say, my gaze crashing against his. “Give me the name, and I’ll play the game, Ezra. So you might want to be careful about what you accuse me of doing.”

  His brows shoot up his head. “You would actually fuck my father?”

  No.

  I’d rather stab the son of a bitch repeatedly than so much as touch him. I’d rather slide naked down a razor blade banister to land in a pool of lemon juice than ever let that man touch me.

  But I don’t tell Ezra that.

  Instead, I remind him of another barrier between us.

  “In two years, I won’t have much say about what I do in life. Why should anything matter now?”

  “But...you would fuck William?” His voice is incredulous.

  Damn it. “No, I wouldn’t actually fuck your father. That’s disgusting.”

  “Then what the hell are you doing over there?” he yells.

  “I already told you,” I yell back.

  Great. Now we’re screaming at each other out where Damon can hear us from the woods, and Ivy can hear us from inside. Not good.

  “I don’t believe you,” he roars.

  Tossing up my hands, I step away from him. “That’s not my problem.”

  It just sucks he’s right not to believe me. I clench my eyes shut and face another direction because I can’t look at him and keep lying.

  This entire thing was supposed to be over by now. I was promised it would be done. But complications have only dragged it out, and I’m stuck in this until it ends.

  And I can’t say a word.

  Not one word, or all of it will be for nothing.

  “And this is exactly why I did what I did. You only have yourself to blame.”

  God, he is such a dick.

  I spin to face him again, not giving a damn when he steps close and ducks his head. He wants to be everything I see? Fine! Because I have no problem narrowing my stare on him and saying what needs to be said.

  “Is this your way of apologizing, Ezra? Because you might as well not bother. You suck at it. Just like you suck at being an even remotely decent fucking person. The last five weeks, all you’ve done is abuse me. Maybe not physically, but mentally and emotionally? Yeah, you’ve done that. Over and over and over, you’ve taken every stab you can while giving me mixed signals about how you feel. So you know what I think?”

  Ezra weaves in place. It’s the weirdest thing, and I can’t believe I’m just now noticing it.

  It’s like he can’t stay still, the energy inside him too much to hold onto, a fight constantly in his head that he can’t help but step up to.

  His behavior is aggravating as hell because he mocks you while staring you down, challenges you while laughing at you. This son of a bitch thinks he has me cornered when the truth is I’m a hell of lot stronger than him.

  And I’m about to tell him why.

  Leaning in, he whispers. “What do you think, killer? Try being honest for once.”

  Tears well at the backs of my eyes, and I hate it. Hate crying in front of him. Hate feeling this way. But I’m not crying for myself, I’m crying for him.

  You’re so pretty when you cry...

  I wonder if he would still think that if he knew those tears were for every time he was dragged off for one of those weekends, for every time he was forced to watch something that hurt him, for every punch he suffered, for every single time he was made to suffer the abuse of a father who never loved him.

  I wonder how fucking pretty he’d find my tears then.

  They brim at my eyes, hot and salty, the sting of them forcing me to blink.

  How pretty am I now, Ezra?

  Do you have any idea this is what you’ve done to me?

  His eyes are tracking one of those tears when I finally admit, “I think you’re weak.”

  And God, it hurts to say that because he’s not weak for the abuse that happened, he’s not weak for surviving it, but he is weak for letting the man who raised him turn him into a cold, unfeeling monster.

  It hurts so bad that I’m shaking when his beautiful amber eyes flick back to mine, when open mockery rolls across his expression.

  With a tense grin, he dismisses my opinion.

  “I’m weak? That’s hilarious, Em. Tell me more.”

  “You are weak. Not physically, obviously. But emotionally? Sorry, but you have no strength there. You went through a lot of shit in your life, Ezra. What was done to you and Damon was awful. And you survived that. But at least Damon came out of it with the ability to care about people. You?”

  I laugh, not like it’s funny, but more because it’s ridiculous that I have to state the obvious.

  “From what I’ve seen of you lately, you completely lack the ability to give a damn about anything. That’s what makes you weak. You allowed William to mold you into an abusive asshole just like him.”

  Oh, he does not like that, not if the way his eyes narrow on me has anything to say for it. Well, too fucking bad. It’s about time somebody tell him the truth.

  Ezra manages to step closer, our bodies brushing together, his eyes trapping mine as he ducks his head to make sure he has every last bit of my attention.

  “You want to know what I think?”

  Not really. But I have a feeling he’s going to tell me anyway.

  “I think you’re looking for any possible way to strike back at me for what I did. I think you got busted in whatever it is you’re trying to do, and rather than explaining yourself, you’re diverting the topic to bullshit,” he says, emphasizing that word with a snap to his voice that makes me flinch. “Only because you’ve been cornered. I may be a lot of things, killer. An ass? Yep, got that covered. A bully? Pretty much. A guy who sees through games like the one you’re playing and calls people out on them? You better fucking believe it. But what I am not is weak.”

  I hit a nerve, it seems, one that is scraped raw and hurts any time someone touches it.

  My eyes trap Ezra’s in return because I won’t let him intimidate me. Not anymore.

  “Just the fact you can’t accept it and admit it makes you weak. We’ve all been through hell. Every last one of us. Just being born into our families is hell. But some of us haven’t bowed to the pressure of the crap on our shoulders. I have no choices in life. None! Yet I still walk with my head high and don’t need to hurt other people because I can’t handle the shit hand life has dealt me. I still care. I still love. I still treat people with the respect they deserve. And I respect myself enough to know when to walk away from a person who can’t find it within himself to treat me like I deserve.”

  “Like me?” he asks, his head tilting slightly.

  Another tear rolls down my cheek. But not for me.

  For him.

  For what’s been done to him.

  For what he refuses to see.

  “Yes, like you.”

  He grins, but it isn’t the mockery in that expression that hurts. It’s the heat in his eyes, the fire that calls to mine.

  It’s the same look he gets when he’s about to pin me against a wall and take what he wants.

  The same look he gets when he fights.

  The same look that has the ability to melt me in place and whisper to me until I submit.


  Fuck, this man does things to me that shouldn’t be allowed. That I shouldn’t allow. But tell that to the heat between my thighs. To the way my skin becomes tight and everything feminine inside me comes to life. I luxuriate in his physical strength, in his prowess, in the feral masculinity in him that takes and takes and takes.

  But while he makes my body sing, he crushes my heart and gnaws on my soul. He consumes me. Devours me. He leaves me bruised and broken, just like him.

  I refuse to continue giving my heart to a person who doesn’t know how to care for his own.

  The definition of insanity is to do the same thing over and over again expecting a different result. And it’s becoming clear that my insanity has always been my love for Ezra.

  “I find it interesting you brought Damon into this.” Ezra rubs his thumb across his bottom lip, his body weaving, the energy in him sparking and snapping against my skin. “Because I think you like to keep him around just in case shit doesn’t work with me. I think you like to keep your options open. And that’s why you refused to tell him the truth. That’s why you were so mad this morning. But Damon isn’t dumb, killer. He didn’t wait around for you to talk to him after seeing that because we’re fucking used to women who are perfectly fine with whichever one of us they get. Damon and I both now think that you’re just another one of those women, one who doesn’t give a fuck whose bed she’s in, just as long as it’s with one of us.”

  He not only jammed the knife in, he gave it a good damn twist. This son of a bitch managed to turn what he did this morning around on me.

  And I refuse to accept it.

  “You know what?” I roar. “Both of you can fuck off if that’s what you think I’m doing! I’m sick of this!”

  Slapping at the tears that leak from my eyes, I turn my back on him and run down the stairs. He’ll never see the truth of what he’s doing. He’ll never believe that someone can love him for him.

  I’m done arguing with him about it. Done tiptoeing around, trying to avoid all the land mines they both have scattered about.

  I’m done.

  Reaching the grass, I hear Ivy’s voice above me, and I glance over my shoulder to see her blocking Ezra from chasing after me.

  For a quick second, I worry that he’ll hurt her in order to follow where I’m going. Even now, his eyes are locked on me while Ivy moves to block his path.

  But then I see Gabe step in, and I quicken my pace to find somewhere to hide for a while.

  I can’t take any more of this, can’t handle having my love tossed in my face like it means nothing.

  If that means I have to leave them both, then that’s what I’ll do.

  Just like after high school.

  Regardless of what it does to me in the process.

  Ezra

  The ride back to town was pure torture. I’m not going to lie. It was like chewing glass, my teeth clenched tight, jaw aching and the tense silence slicing my skin with every mile we drove.

  With Ivy up front and Gabe driving, Damon, Emily and I were stuck in back, Emily not talking to me, and Damon not talking to either of us.

  Gabe and Ivy attempted to fill the silence a few times, but gave up when all they got in return were three angry glares.

  Emily sat in the middle, and every time our elbows accidentally brushed together or our thighs touched, she’d sneer in my direction and scoot closer to Damon.

  Unfortunately for her, Damon would just growl because she was taking up his space, so she’d scoot my direction again.

  It was a back and forth the entire time, and pure relief when Gabriel dropped Emily off at her house. But the relief quickly faded when Damon and I glanced at each other and turned to stare out our windows.

  Gabe must have been feeling it since he practically peeled out of our driveway after dropping us at home, the tires leaving small marks on the concrete. Not that I can blame him.

  This entire situation is bullshit. I’d want to haul ass, too, if I could. But that’s not the case, so instead I stalk inside the house behind my brother, taking notice of the tension in his jaw and shoulders, as well as the way he eyes me like I’ve got a target on my face.

  “Do you need to take a shot?” I ask.

  “If I take a shot this will end up bloody.”

  “Probably because I’ll beat your ass.”

  He rounds on me, both of us squaring off now that we’re nose to nose. I was just kidding - kind of - but, shit. If this is where we are then I’m fine with it.

  “Say what you need to say, little brother.”

  “Stop calling me that.”

  I grin. Damon’s temper is at the surface. But maybe this is what needs to happen. We both need to get through this. We need to work it out, and none of that can happen if we keep circling around each other.

  “Then tell me what you’re thinking. Obviously, you have plenty to say.”

  His eyes narrow, not much, just enough to let me know he’s holding himself back.

  “Why did you do that to Red?”

  My brows crash together. I know he’s mad, but I didn’t expect him to come out in defense of her. Not first thing, at least.

  “I wasn’t doing anything to her. I was showing you what you’ve had a problem accepting since I told you we’re done.”

  His grin matches mine.

  “You’ve had it out for Red since the beginning. You’ve insulted her. Disrespected her. Used her, apparently. And still, she cares about you. She loves you. She wants you.”

  He slams his palms against my shoulders, and I step back to keep my balance.

  “Do you have any idea how fucking lucky you are? Can you appreciate at all what it means for a woman like her to want you?” he roars, a haze of anger painting his face red.

  I lick my tongue against my top teeth, round my shoulders and say nothing. Because there is nothing to say. I do know how amazing Emily is. I’ve always known. It’s just that shit became too complicated.

  Emily would never choose between us. She would never come between us. And with the way Damon feels about her, there is no easy solution.

  And maybe that’s part of my problem. Yes, she technically chose me, but in the end, she never made a choice at all. She walked away instead.

  Something deep inside me was diced apart by that, the wound never healing. I still haven’t moved past what felt like rejection.

  Regardless of her reasons.

  Regardless of the fact that I respect her even more for those reasons.

  Plus, there’s still the fact that Emily refuses to tell me what’s going on with William, and although I want to scream in this asshole’s face about that, I can’t.

  Secrets.

  All these fucking secrets.

  They’re going to destroy all of us eventually.

  Damon steps back, his eyes locked to mine, his grin disbelieving.

  “And you still treat her like shit. What you just did to her crossed a line. Not only did you take advantage of how she feels about you to teach me a lesson, you embarrassed her in the process. I didn’t walk away because of her, Ezra. I walked away to keep from beating the shit out of you.”

  Another slam of his palms against my chest, and I tilt my head in challenge. He’s pushing me, fucking trying me now. The only reason I haven’t hit back is he’s my brother. I know he’s upset, that he needs to get this shit out, but I’ll only be pushed to a certain point before I snap.

  Fuck. I can’t win for shit today. All I’m doing is fighting. That and pissing people off, apparently.

  “I don’t want to fight with you about this, Damon. It’s not worth a fight.”

  He laughs.

  “Except it is worth it. Red is, at least. It’s a shame you don’t fucking see that. But you’re right. We shouldn’t fight. Which is why I’ll make you a deal right now.”

  Damn it, here we go. This should be good.

  “What’s the deal?”

  “We’re done with her.”

  The fuck?
>
  “Of course we’re done with her. I already said that.”

  “Entirely, Ezra. I won’t go around Emily. I’ll let her go. But you have to let her go as well. For good.”

  What is this jackass smoking? He’s acting like I’m the problem. Why does everybody think I’m the problem?

  “Fine,” I agree. “We’re done.”

  Silently staring at me for several seconds, Damon relaxes his stance, but his stare is still hard, his jaw set. Taking a step toward me, he jabs a finger at my face.

  “If you go around her again, I will fight you. And I’ll beat your ass, Ezra. I’m not playing around with this anymore.”

  He spins on his heel to run upstairs, his bedroom door slamming shut like the period at the end of a sentence. Damon’s threat was made, and I’m left standing here to either accept it or make my own.

  Rather than following him, I decide to let him calm down. His emotions are spiraling all over the place, and it’s never good to talk to him when he’s wired.

  But I can’t stay still after that shit.

  Thankfully my phone buzzes and I pull it from my pocket to see as good an excuse as any to get the hell out of here.

  Twenty minutes later, I’m strolling into Priest’s shop to pick up my bike. It’s the one place I can expect people to act normal and not be caught in some emotional tantrum like I constantly am with Damon and Emily.

  My shoulders relax at the familiar scent of gas, oil and sweat, the tension bleeding away to hear the squeal of a wrench or the hiss of a hydraulic lift.

  Across the garage, Shane is making some last-minute adjustments on my bike, and I weave through the different cars to get to him.

  “It looks great,” I say as I approach him. “Good as new.”

  “Better than new.” His eyes tip up to me. “And I’d appreciate it if it stays that way.”

  With a roll of my eyes, I grin. “Yes, sir. I’ll be sure not to kick it again.”

  “You sure about that?” he asks, pushing to his feet. “Tanner told me you and Damon are having some issues.”

  Fuck. At what point did our group turn into a bunch of gossiping hens? If it keeps going like this, we’ll end up with a weekly newsletter detailing all the bullshit going on with each person and a toll-free number to call to talk about our feelings or report suspicious behavior.