Page 92 of Caging Liberty

It doesn’t work.

I spin around and move a couple feet toward a potted plant before falling to my knees. I hurl bile into the pot, the clay rim sanding away at my fingertips. I dry heave long after my stomach is empty and saliva hangs from my lip.

Tears blur my vision, and my nose begins to run. They aren’t sad tears. They aren’t even betrayed tears.

They’re angry tears. Anger toward myself. Anger for trying so hard to keep my promise to Naomi yet failing miserably.

Don’t let these bastards fool me?

This one takes the cake.

I let out a scream, gripping the planter so hard my fingers hurt. I stand up, yanking the pot up with me. I slam it to the ground with another guttural scream, sending shards of clay flying on the balcony and vomit-covered soil spreading across the stone.

“Trouble in paradise?”

I turn and face Desiree with her hip popped out and a smug smile lifting her lips.

She raises a perfectly curved eyebrow. “Seriously, what the hell crawled upyourass?”

I laugh pitifully and take a step toward her. “IwishI could tell you what a fucking idiot you are, Desiree, but I don’t think words can define it.”

I stand inches from her, my hands balled into fists at my sides. I don’t know if this is a long time coming or if Desiree is just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but all the rage I feel directs toward her like a heat-seeking missile.

“You’ve really convinced yourself that you want Angel. Well, please,pleasetake him.” I shove her shoulder, forcing her to back up a step.

Another laugh barrels out of me, and I must look manic because her usual look of disdain is replaced by uneasy bewilderment. “He wants the psychopath to buy you, you idiot!That’swhat you mean to him. You know, the same guy you thought was hilarious for beating up Naomi? Yeah, Angel wants him to take you. He fuckinghatesyou!”

I shove her again, and she stumbles, her eyes widening.

She recovers a moment later, her face pinched with the same rage I’m feeling. I realize now thatthisis what I wanted. Company in my betrayal. Hatred for the same man who fooled me. A fight. Hell, a fucking brawl. Anything but me pathetically puking into a potted plant.

“You’re a lying fucking bitch!” she seethes, lunging for me so quickly, I don’t realize she’s coming until her palms hit my chest.

I stagger back a few steps, then my teeth bare as I growl. I launch myself at her, but she puts her hands up to block me.

She slaps me across the face, and my head whips to the side. I don’t have time to react before she clutches my hair, reminiscent of the first time we fought, and yanks with so much force that I yelp. The scream that comes from her next drowns out my protest.

She throws me against the railing and uses her whole body to trap me against it as she squeezes my throat with both of her hands. Her wild eyes bore into me with so much rage that it actually sobers me for a moment.

She’s even more pissed than I am.

I snap out of my surprise and claw at her hands, but they’re too tight. I scratch her face, giving her a warning before I gouge out her eyes. My nails leave dotted lines of blood on her cheeks, and her grip on me loosens, gifting me with a burst of oxygen. I push her away from me with a growl before she jerks a knee up, connecting with my stomach.

What little air I have leaves my lungs, and a new round of nausea takes hold. When I double over, she takes the opportunity to crash her knee into my face.

Pain explodes through my nose, and for a moment, it’s the only part of my body my brain registers. Blood streams down over my lips as I release a roar.

“I hate you!” Desiree screams, drilling her elbow between my shoulder blades.

More pain. More screams.

More adrenaline.

I lift up and flail my fists toward her, but she’s already there with a punch to my face. Her hits push me closer to the ledge until my back bounces against it.

I land a blow to her jaw and send her stumbling. Panting with pain radiating from every inch of my body, I grab hold of her wrist before she can recover, and I jerk her toward me with as much force as my body will allow. I twist out of the way so I don’t ram her into myself, my hand still yanking, momentum building, my teeth still bared, still seeing red.

I only mean to slam her into the railing. I only mean to get the upper hand.