Ruthless Regret (Ruthless Games Duology #2)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

ASHLEY

It feels like a lifetime ago since I was last inside the house I share with Jessa-Mae and Karla. Has it really been less than a week? It’s hard to believe that barely any time has passed yet so much has happened.

I dump my suitcase in the hall, and follow my friends through to the kitchen, where Karla moves around making coffee for them, and tea for me.

“I’ll call the landlord in the morning and tell him you’ve changed your mind about moving out,” Jessa says. “He was leaving it up to us to find a new roommate.”

“You need to call work and ask them to ignore your resignation. It’s only been a couple of days. I doubt they’ve taken you off the system yet,” Karla adds.

I nod, but don’t speak. I’m honestly not even sure I want to go back to work. I have some savings. Enough to tide me over for a couple of months while I make a decision about what I want to do.

One thing the last five days has taught me is that my life isn’t what I want it to be. I’ve been existing, but I haven’t been living . And that’s something I need to change.

When Karla sets down the teacup in front of me, and sits at the opposite side of the table, my heart sinks. They were quiet for most of the drive back, letting music fill the silence. For the first thirty minutes, I’d waited for them to ask more questions, and as the miles rolled by and they didn’t, I relaxed. But we’re back home now, and there’s nothing to distract them.

“Do you have a copy of the contract he made you sign?” Karla asks.

“No. He said he’d give it to me, but …” I shrug.

“We need it, so we can see a lawyer.”

“I don’t need to see a lawyer.”

“Ashley—”

“Stop right there.”

Her eyes widen at my sharp tone. This isn’t the me Karla or Jessa know. I’ve always allowed them to take the lead, content to follow and stay in the background.

“There is no we , Karla. I signed the contract. I married him. Me .”

“You’re also the one who got attacked in his home.” Jessa’s voice is softer than Karla’s, but no less firm.

“Do you think I don’t know that?”

“I’m not sure what you’re thinking right now.” That barb hits home.

I stand up. “You know what, I’m going to my room. I think the best thing we can all do is leave this conversation until tomorrow. When we’re not tired from traveling.” I walk out.

“Ashley, wait.”

Both women come after me. I keep walking until I’m outside my bedroom, then turn to face them.

“I’m sorry. I appreciate and love you both, but I don’t want to do this right now.” Reaching behind me, I open the door and take a step backward. “Tomorrow, I promise.” I close the door without waiting for them to answer, and shoot the lock.

Crossing the room, I sit on the edge of the bed. It’s not late, but I’m exhausted.

I laugh, the sound sharp and bitter.

I’ve been in a permanent state of exhaustion for days, mental and physical. Maybe a good night’s sleep is exactly what I need.

I can clear my head, regain my balance, and not have to worry about dealing with Zain and his personal brand of crazy. Tomorrow, I will buy a new cell phone, and maybe do what my friends suggested—find a lawyer who can help me end my marriage.

Marriage. Can it even really be called that?

That’s a tomorrow problem.

Standing, I find a t-shirt and pajama shorts, and get changed, then crawl under the covers. It feels good to be back in my own bed.

The house is quiet—the kind of silence that makes it impossible to stop thoughts invading my mind.

I feel like an imposter trying to take over someone else’s life. Even though everything around me is familiar, I can’t shake the feeling that I don’t belong here anymore.

My thumb finds the spot on my finger where the wedding ring sat, and I’m surprised by the rush of emotion that floods me—anger, guilt, concern.

I tug the covers tighter around myself.

I should feel relieved. I’m free. Away from Zain and his manipulations, his blackmail, the chaos he brought into my life.

My friends know what’s been happening. I don’t have to deal with this alone.

I squeeze my eyes closed, and will myself to fall asleep, but the images won’t stop, my brain won’t switch off.

The man standing in the kitchen. The knife. Zain calling my name.

With a frustrated sigh, I sit up.

I’m in New York, away from Whitstone, away from him …

Giving up on sleep, I toss the blankets to one side, and walk over to the window. The street outside is dark, quiet, and I have this odd sense of detachment, like I’m watching the world from a step outside of my existence.

What if someone followed me here? What if leaving Whitstone wasn’t the best thing to do?

A shiver runs down my spine.

What if someone is out there right now, watching and waiting for the right moment to strike?

No, no one is here. It’s just my imagination running wild.

No one other than the sheriff, my mom, and my friends know I’ve left town. And McFadden wouldn’t have suggested I leave if he thought there was any chance of someone coming after me … right?

A soft knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts.

“Ash?” It’s Karla.

I hesitate. I don’t really want to talk, but I can’t avoid them forever. Turning away from the window, I walk over, and open the door.

Karla is standing in the hallway. “I know you said you didn’t want to talk tonight, but I had to ask … are you okay?”

I nod, but it’s a lie. I know it. She knows it.

“What if McFadden was right? What if Zain wasn’t the target? What if coming here has put you and Jessa-Mae in danger? What if I’m not safe here?”