Twisted Hate: Chapter 48

The only good thing about my breakup with Josh was that it gave me more time and motivation to study for the bar. I was motivated before, but there was no push greater than the need to distract from a broken heart.

I took the next week off from the clinic and used it for one last prep marathon.

Wake up at seven a.m.

Eat breakfast and shower.

Video lectures and notes until noon.

Lunch and a short break.

Assignments and practice essays.

Dinner and another break.

Practice MBE (Multistate Bar Examination) questions.

Sleep.

I stuck to the same schedule every day, afraid that if I deviated, I would fall into a dark hole I couldn’t claw my way out of.

Structure was good. Structure kept me from having to make decisions or think about anything other than what the next item in my to-do list was.

Of course, that only lasted until I actually the bar exam. After that…

I stared at the sheet of paper before me.

I blinked and shook my head before re-reading the setup more carefully. A migraine crept behind my temples, but I was almost at the finish line.

After six hours of testing, this was my last question—for the first day, anyway. I still had the multiple-choice exam tomorrow, but I’d worry about that then.

The scratch of my pencil filled my ears as I scribbled my notes down before typing my final responses into the computer.

And so on and so forth.

I finished literally a minute before time was up. I submitted the test electronically and exited the testing site, waiting for a rush of relief or excitement. After so many years of school and months of studying, I was half finished with the exam that would determine the future of my career.

But the rush never came.

I just felt…empty.

“I think I did okay,” a woman near me said into her phone. I recognized her as another attorney hopeful from the testing site. She laughed at whatever the person on the other end said. “Stop…yes, of course. Dinner tonight. I love you.”

A lump of emotion clogged my throat.

In an alternate universe, I would be on the phone with Josh, making plans to celebrate. Something low key, since tomorrow was still a test day, but knowing him, he’d turn it into a whole production.

Dinner at my favorite restaurant, an at-home massage, sex to help me “relieve stress”…

The ding of the elevator shattered the fantasy into a million jagged pieces.

I wasn’t in Josh’s living room after a romantic night out; I was in the cold hallway of a nondescript building downtown, my stomach cramping and my chest tight as I lost him.

Again.

Some stupid, naive part of me hoped Josh would magically show up and surprise me like we were starring in a cheesy rom com, but of course, he didn’t.

My breaths picked up speed. The chill of the air conditioning burrowed into my bones, and the echo of footsteps against the marble floors took on a menacing note.

I need to get out of here.

Unfortunately, the open elevator was going up, not down, and the other elevator seemed to be stuck on the sixth floor.

Instead of waiting, I pushed open the door to the stairwell. I was only on the third floor, so it was an easy enough walk down to the lobby.

Fresh hurt sliced through me at the memory of his parting shot. Josh always knew which buttons to push, good or bad.

But still, I missed him so much it hurt to breathe.

I hadn’t seen him since our breakup. He hadn’t swung by the clinic, and he’d ignored all my calls and texts. But if—

“I need the painting back, Jules.”

My head jerked up just in time to catch a glimpse of blue eyes and light brown hair before Max pinned me to the wall.

I let out a small cry when my head banged against the concrete. My vision blurred at the impact, but I could still make out the harsh lines of Max’s expression.

“I don’t have it,” I gasped. “I threw it away.”

I didn’t want him going after Josh. Christian had promised to keep an eye on Josh in case Max’s “friends” tried to steal the painting again, but it wasn’t a sustainable solution.

I hadn’t wanted to throw it away without returning it to Josh first. He deserved to know. But I told him the danger when I explained the situation the other night, and I hoped he was smart enough to get rid of the art before Max’s friends showed up at his doorstep.

“Don’t lie, Jules. I always know when you’re lying.” Whiskey coated Max’s breath. There was no trace of the clean-cut, gentlemanly mask he liked to wear. Wild panic ran through his bloodshot eyes, and his lip was curled into an ugly sneer. A thin sheen of sweat coated his face and glistened beneath the stairwell’s fluorescent lights.

He was near feral. Unhinged.

My heart jackhammered in my chest, and a thick, pungent taste filled my mouth.

It was the taste of fear.

“They’re going to kill me if I don’t find it.” A bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. “I the painting back. You’re going to help me.”

“I told you, I threw it away.” My heart raced so fast I might pass out.

I could hear people’s footsteps outside the door—so close, yet so far away.

A scream of frustration trapped in my chest. Of all the days for me to take the stairs, which I did, I had to choose today.

I should’ve lied and gone along with Max’s plan until I could get help, but my oxygen supply ran scarce, and I couldn’t think properly.

Besides, what if he hurt Josh? What if—

“You stupid, fucking .” Max pressed his forearm against my throat until I gasped for air. I clawed at his hold, but he was too strong. “This is all your fault. You ruined my life. I asked you for favor, Jules. One favor in exchange for seven years, and you couldn’t even do that.” His harsh breaths clouded my face in a haze of alcohol.

Drunk and desperate. The most dangerous combination.

“Maybe I should take my payment another way,” he said, his voice so nasty it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Max reached between my legs. “See if your pussy is still tight enough to make me come.”

Dots danced before my vision. My limbs were growing heavier, my struggles for breath weaker, so I did the only thing I could do—I kneed him in the balls with every ounce of strength I had left.

His howl of pain ripped through the stairwell. He released me and doubled over.

I allowed myself one second to bask in the sweet air flowing through my lungs again before I stumbled toward the exit, but I only made it two steps before a hand shoved against my back. I didn’t even get a chance to scream before I plummeted down the stairs. My head slammed against something cold and hard, and I caught only the briefest glimpse of the stairwell door opening before everything went dark.