Everything falls to the wayside.
He’s broken, breaking, and I’m here adding more stress to the situation, when all I was trying to do was save him.
“He’ll get over it,” Ramsey dismisses, glancing over his shoulder before pivoting. But not before saying, “It was just a dog.”
No.
No. No. No. No.
I squeeze Torin’s hand harder as his face drops into his chin, exactly where I found him when I waltzed in here.
“Torin,” I quaver, trying the best I can to manage this while keeping my cool. We both can’t be out of whack. One of us has to have a level head here. One of us has to be the strength and I know it has to be me. “He didn’t.”
A broken sob fragments from Torin’s chest, and I want to die from just the agonizing sound of it.
His own fucking brother…he murdered one of his dogs.
“Baby,” I croon, lightly pressing my forehead into his. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“File them up,” Ramsey barks out loudly. “If anyone moves, shoot them, and we’ll bring in one of the others.”
“He’s dead,” I promise, ignoring what’s going on around us. “I won’t allow this to not go unpunished. Pretty Boy, I’m?—”
“Lock the doors. We need ten minutes.”
Something hard pushes into the back of my skull, and I immediately go still. I’m experienced enough—unfortunately—to know there’s a gun pressed against my head, and Ramsey is eager to get this over with.
“Five bullets,” I hear him say, not giving a fuck I’m consoling his brother or the current state he’s in. “You have your six South Shore men, and I have mine. This is a proper Titan fight, minus the crowd and distractions.”
Torin’s arm around my waist tightens, pulling me as close as possible with our chests pressed together and our breathing mixed with different emotions.
“If you win,” Ramsey continues, obviously not giving a flying shit about reading the room, “You go free. My men have orders to let you, my brother, and your men go.”
“Bullshit,” I grind out, keeping my eyes safely closed. I don’t want to be anywherenearthis conversation, let alone away from Pretty Boy.
“That’s what I just said,” Ramsey replies flatly. “There’s no point in killing you, too. It’s the rules. One lives…the other either bows down or dies.”
“Then bow down,” I sneer, breaking free of Torin’s forehead and looking up at the prick wanting some medieval bullshit fight. He stands behind Torin again, and he doesn’t move from his stance. “You don’t want to fuck with me, Ramsey. I’m said to be the devil’s spawn.”
“Even the devil loses, Haven. Your nine lives have to be up by now.” He lifts the butt of a gun in the air and hands it over like I’m stupid enough to take it. “Ladies first.”
“Then I guess you’re up. I’m not the bitch here.”
“Fuck off, Rams,” Torin snarls, his muscles coiling and tensing against my frame. “I told you to leave her out of this, and go find someone else to harass. You’re outnumbered here. It doesn’t matter if you win; you won’t stand up against the Forsaken Crew and The Nameless. You’ll be dead in a week.”
“Well, that’s where my backup plan comes into play, little bro. De Leon’s little Pistol Posse will come in handy.”
Torin scoffs. “I know you’re smarter than that.”
“Who do you think has been recruiting them over the last several years? It’s not like The Void, Torin. I hand-selected these men. And they’re convicted murderers, rapists, and all kinds of?—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Torin shoots out pointedly. “You’ll be fuckin’dead.”
“But De Leon won’t.”
Fuck me.
Is this stupid prick serious?
