But I’d say it’s no use. There are at least a dozen cartel men in the room, not to mention the asshole fucking doctors from the East who assisted in my assault.
My teeth are grinding to dust.
It seems like they’re trying to help Hancock, who’s bleeding from his shoulder—I’m guessing gunshot—though they’re also holding him prisoner. Which means he was captured during that shootout.
Fucking motherfucker… If I were out there, maybe I could’ve helped him.
Guilt weighs heavily on my gut, but it’s not as potent as the sheer anguish pumping through my veins at seeing the man I love,trappedin there. Knowing I can’t just burst through this wall and rescue him, despite how much it’sdestroyingme not to.
“I have an exit wound. Put pressure on this… Love, bring me the sedatives,” that fucker Hassan barks at my fiancé, who obeys, slowly.
The picture of unenthused.
He’s mostly focused on Hancock, the prisoner of war being given medical aid by the enemy…At a price, no doubt.
“Hancock…?” A familiar voice joins the noise.
I know it’s Kang before I even spot him, but I still slink back over to the other hole to verify. He’s standing besideTrevel Fenwick, the two of them watching this scene go down in obvious unease.
I can’tbelieveI feel bad. I’m covered in blood and muck and I haven’t slept more than ten minutes at a time in weeks, watching my fiancé who’s being held captive in this place while the two of them are probably sleeping comfortably, eating the yummy stuff the chefs prepare in the mansion, and fucking each other silly.
And yet, I do.
I understand why Byron and Trevel did what they did. They were angry, and clearly revenge is a powerful motivator.We’re all here out of revenge, in one form or another.
It just kills me because I know that if the circumstances were different, we could be good friends. Byron and Trevel are a lot like me, whether they’d ever admit it or not. We’re shadow dwellers. After-thoughts.Supporting roles.
I just hope they realize that seeingeach othermeans not giving a fuck what the rest of the eyes in the world are doing.
A distinct clacking—dress shoes on marble floors—straightens everyone in the room. I brace myself for Manuel Blanco’s arrival, stuffing the books back into place. Shifting over to the end of the shelf, I remove a lower one, hoping he won’t notice.
“Hi, Simon… It’s been a while, darling.”
The Warden is speaking to Hancock, but I can’t see well from this angle. In fact, the only thing I can see well is the back of my fiancé’s head.
Tears well in my eyes just from seeing his dreadlocks, fingers twitching with the clawing desire to reach out and touch one. To touchhim…
God, it’s been so long.
We haven’t been apart this long since we met, and it’s insufferable. Ihatebeing away from him. I hate not knowing what’s going on with him, if he’s okay. If they’re… hurting him.
At the thought,furyreplaces the sadness, so thick I can barely see through it.
I swear on my life, I will make these fuckers pay.
The Ivory tells Johansson and Hassan to get Hancock patched up andcollared. I’m not sure what he means until I notice something… around Lemuel’s neck.
A black ring that looks like a dog collar, snugly fitted.
My muscles tense, clenching my knife’s handle while I choke back a snarl.
They put something around his neck…
That’s triggering for Lemuel, after what happened to him.
I am going to slice each and every one of them from ear to fucking ear. Starting with that prick Hassan, who watched that fuckface Templeton raping me, and his buddy Johansson, who I just know is responsible for these goddamn collars.
Peeling my eyes away from my man, I watch The Ivory leave the room, stopping on his way out to whisper something to Trevel. That’s when I notice that he and Byron have collars on as well.
