“Please tell me that man is dead.” Clip. His fingers curled around the dead petals, and the ensuing flames felt slightly brighter, slightly more vicious, this time. “He is,” I said hoarsely. “I hope you did it, and I hope it hurt.” My stomach somersaulted. And Max’s eyes flicked to me again, bearing a particular kind of knowing look that made me wonder what else he saw—whether he knew what I had done. “And I hope,” he added quietly, “that you don’t regret it for a second.” He knew. He had to. “He would have killed me,” I whispered. “He would have.” Clip. Fire. “Fucking monster.”
he wouldve hid the body girl he dont gaf
