AYLA
I Smirked.
He was fucking jealous I kissed Kane Vashawn?
What was even wrong with him?
This was my life, and what I did or who I kissed was fucking nobody's business.
And certainly not Cassian's.
"Well, you know what they say," I sighed softly, looking him in the eye, "what's good for the goose is good for the gander."
My next words, harsh and unfiltered: "Now go fuck yourself!"
The reaction was quick.
And I'd expected it. Infact I'd be damned not to.
But the hell!
I didn't survive Chicago's crackheads the first three months I arrived here by sitting pretty and sharing a Cheshire smile with those motherfunkers.
I fucking learned how to fight.
Large hand and fingers that pulled triggers without a second thought circled my neck.
I grabbed my purse before it slipped and dragged it across his cheek.
Tiny horizontal beads left scratch marks on his face.
He growled, unclasped one hand from my neck, pulled my purse from my hand, and slammed it into the wall.
