“Let me see what’s back here,” Griffin says, turning on the light to the back of the cabin. “There’s a bunch of shit in here.”
“Pretty sure I saw a gym bag earlier,” Rowan offers.
With the light from above, the kid looks pale as hell. The jacket tied around his leg to stem the bleeding is dark, so I can’t exactly see how much he’s been bleeding, but it seems like a decent bit.
And he doesn’t have the advantage of basic alpha healing, let alone the juiced-up healing the three of us have from the drugs his family has been pumping us full.
Damn. We won’t have to take that shit anymore.
My hands clench into fists. I should be relieved. Those drugs made me feel insane. Out of control of my own body. Of my mind.
So why does the thought of not taking them anymore make me feel... itchy?
“You better not die,” I mutter, narrowing my eyes on Rowan.
Mirabelle would be devastated. And that’s not allowed.
He offers me a weak two-finger salute along with a deep sigh.
“Well this is something,” Griffin mutters under his breath, pulling out a white t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. The stench of mold clings to the fabric. “Gross as fuck, if you ask me.”
Despite his protests, he still slides the shirt on over his head and tugs up the shorts. He takes a second to wipe off his hands, which are a little stained with blood fromhelping Rowan, on a towel the stupid fucking bastard used as a sweat towel or something.
I’m so fucking glad he’s dead.
The only thing I regret is not getting the opportunity to take a crack at him myself.
I’ll just have to settle for Rage snapping the bones in each of his limbs.
Not a bad end, for a guy like that.
He deserved a lot worse.
If we had more time, I would’ve used that knife he was so fond of and carved him up with it instead. It’s the least he deserved after threatening to do the same to Mirabelle.
“Here’s some cash,” Rowan says, his voice betraying how much pain he’s in.
“Be right back, everyone,” Griffin nods, swinging open the passenger side door.
Silence fills the car, only broken up by Mirabelle’s shaky and Rowan’s strained breathing.
“How’re you guys holding up?”The sentence feels awkward and clunky, coming out of my mouth.
I guess showing people I verbally care is a new development. Don’t think I ever really did that until Mirabelle came into my life. Even before I was kidnapped and turned into the killing machine I am now.
“Getting shot’s a lot fucking worse than getting the shit kicked out of me,” Rowan says.
“And you, Shortcake?”
“It hurts, but—but after you told me that it didn’t, you know...”
I suck my teeth, taking a deep steadying breath.
“After I told you your bond with the new guy was fine?”
“Yeah,” she nods, glancing away.
I don’t like that.
