“I do not give a single fuck about you. I am blinded to you as my enemy. It will never change. You’re fucked and you’re going to die, slowly and fuckin’ painfully.”
She wipes the snot running from her nose and then cradles her wounded arm to her chest.
“I have something that will change your mind.”
Staring at her, I say, “I’m done here. You have nothing and we both know it.”
I go to leave when she calls out desperately, “You should look through my phone!” I don’t turn around and force myself to leave. The prospect locks up and is hot on my tail as I head down to the bar.
“If she tries that again, you know what to do.” Getting in his face so he understands me clearly, I add, “She is nothing. She isn’t your friend or someone who will be around in the future. She’s here to die, but when we say. You got that?”
He nods. “Yes, Prez.”
In the bar, Angel looks from me to the blade in my hand. I run it under the water behind the bar before joining him where he sits with King.
“Where’s her phone?” I ask.
“Behind the bar. It needs her fingerprint to get into it,” Angel tells me.
Over my shoulder, I call out, “Prospect, take Effie’s phone up to her and get her fingerprint to unlock it.”
A beer appears in front of me, and I look up to see Maxwell joining us.
“Do I need to ask who’s blood was on your knife?” Angel asks.
“She doubted me, so I carved Ford’s name on her arm.” I shrug.
I watch my brothers for their reactions but no one gives anything away as to how they feel about it.
A scream pierces the air and King and Maxwell are on their feet.
Though I’d like to know what the fuck is going on, I order, “Sit.”
The scream fills every inch of the bar and then silence. I’m not waiting long till the prospect is jogging down the stairs.
I arch my brow. “Why the fuck was she screaming?”
He thrusts the phone at me along with… “Is that her fuckin’ finger?” Angel demands to know.
“She refused to give me her finger.”
“So you cut it off?” Maxwell asks.
The prospect shrugs. “Yeah. She’s only lost a digit, cause of her, Ford lost his life.”
No one argues with him and I grin, taking the finger from him.
I unlock her phone and go straight to settings. I turn off her phone lock. It’s not like the finger’s going to be much use soon when it starts rotting.
I pass the finger back to the prospect and instruct, “Fuckin’ burn it. Leave no evidence.”
I scroll through her phone and flick through the gallery. She’s not much a selfie taker but there a few of my clubhouse and one of each of us in various locations.
“Rude’s not back for another hour, I’m gonna go make sure she doesn’t bleed out,” Angel says, and I barely look up in acknowledgment.
There’s nothing of interest in her photos. None of the eight contacts give me anything. Her texts are pointless. Her call log is useless to me. I go into her cloud and Ford’s name gets my full attention. I click on the file and live footage fills the screen. What the fuck is this? I lean in closer for a better look. Ford is lying on a mattress in what looks like an empty room.
2
