I’m not scared Pretty Boy will die from his wounds. In all honesty, I never asked about him.
Torin Wildes isn’t done with me yet. He won’t be. There’s a sick obsession that lies between him and me, and while I’ve cut his ass off to my feelings, I know he’s still not done playing yet. He’d never take the pussy way out and die because I’m sure there’s more he wants to do and say that will make me wish he did.
“He took a few bullets for Wallace. Don’t ask me why,” Cairo tells me as we race through the streets to get to them. “I can never fully wrap my head around that asshole.”
That was a question I never got an answer to.
I’ve been molding my feelings for Torin into a ball and tucking it deep into my memory. He’s going to tell me I owe him for protecting Levi, but he won’t take immediate action like Matteo.
No, he’ll torture me and make me wait.
Then he’ll get what he wants.
I guess, in my head, he’s too evil to die.
God would never take him when he’s not done wreaking havoc on my life.
Where he can still drive me utterly insane.
To inflict karma where I’ve fucked up in life because he’d be the perfect resource and consequence.
“Earth to Bayyyy.” My head follows the familiar sound of Nessa’s voice. Taking in her tight jeans and quickly coming up to her face.
It’s cocky, self-assured.
Different.
“You’re getting slow.” She quirks an eyebrow at her own statement, and it’s then the glint of metal catches my eye against the dull street lights illuminating the abandoned parking lot.
She has a gun pointed directly in Travis’s direction. A tell-tale sign I underestimated this bitch more times than I want to admit.
Because that would mean I let a snake in.
“How deep in are you?” I ask, barely able to make my voice audible, but I need to know. Is this just some stupid warning shot because she’s pissed, or is there something more?
“Deep,” she confirms without hesitation. “Levi didn’t want my help. Said that you and him had it handled. Your stupid little ex offered money, protection, and a spot.”
A spot.
“Where?”
Nessa decidedly chooses to ignore the question and says, “I did it because I didn’t have a place, Bay. He gave me?—”
“Whatspot, Nessa? What did youdo?”
I watch her shift her weight but not the gun. Nor the whiplash she’s about to unload on me when she responds with, “Queen.” I’m barely able to register it when she tacks on, “Of South Shore.”
The barge of emotions I was trying to hold on to suddenly floods my every vein and brain cell.
Rage.
Shock.
Fear.
Revenge.
I stranglehold the last one. Nothing will ever compete with this moment. The girl I used to consider family while becoming my enemy in one fell swoop.
