His grin falters.
Good.
He drags me across the floor.Rope winds around my wrists.He ties me to a beam opposite Joey.The space between us is maybe ten feet, but it feels like a war zone.
Martin, maybe, maybe not, mutters something about purity, wings, ritual.
Then he leaves.The door slams, echoing.Silence crawls in.
Joey stares at me.I stare back.
“You look like shit,” she says.
“So do you.And you stink.”
She almost smiles.Almost.
We sit there breathing like two feral cats trapped in the same cage.
Finally, she sighs.“How long you been his?”she asks.
The question hits me like a bottle.“I’m not.”
She snorts.“Girl, please.You said he’s coming.Don’t get my hopes up.”
My face burns.“He has you.”
She laughs.Pain laces the sound.“Had.Past tense.Fucker blocked me.”
I swallow.Hard.
Joey smirks at my expression.“You’re cute when you’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” I lie.“I’m confused.”
“Same thing.”
The ropes burn my skin as I shift.“You still love him?”
She stiffens.Looks away.“It’s messy.”
Sighing, I quiet.We both look away until she speaks again.
“You still after Prez?”she asks, just filling the time.“Still love him?”
I shrug best I can under the ropes.Not an answer.Not that I’d give her one.
We go quiet.Then the bulb flickers.A shadow crosses the space.
Joey’s head snaps up.“You hear that?”
“No.”
“Exactly.”
The silence grows too big.Too heavy.Someone is here.
My stomach drops.
