Make Them Regret It Chapter 29
The dagger slid free of its sheath.
Colton’s face changed, and he reached out to stop me.
“Blythe!”
The blade came down, gouging a deep scar across the car’s hood.
The force of the blow shattered the fragments into powder.
A gust of wind scattered them in every direction.
Colton stood frozen.
Slowly, he crouched down, trying to gather the dust with his hands. But it mixed with the dirt and smeared with his blood. No matter what he did, he couldn’t collect it.
“Can it be repaired now?” I asked.
His head bowed, and his shoulders shook once.
“I know you hate me.”
“If you want to beat me, cripple me, anything—I’ll take it. Blythe, I’m just begging you not to leave.”
I looked at him.
“Colton, you’ve always believed that if someone pays a price, things can go back to the way they were.”
“When you beat me thirty times, you said it would be over. Now that it’s your turn to hurt, you want to use that pain to buy me back.”
“But the dead don’t come back.”
He looked up, his eyes red.
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
“Move.”
“I can’t.”
I flicked the blade across his sleeve.
The black fabric fell away, the cut no more than half an inch from his wrist.
At last, he lowered the arm that blocked my path.
“The next strike,” I said, “won’t miss.”
I sheathed the dagger and walked past him.
Behind me, I heard him say in a low voice, “Blythe, I’ll wait for you.”
I didn’t stop.
“That’s your choice.”
A late vigil changes nothing.