They’ve managed to find a light switch, which means we need to haul ass and get the fuck out of here. I glare daggers at the guys, but they aren’t in lover mode right now.
They’re enforcers, which means I need to be too.
Ignoring Bailey’s warranted outbursts, I gather my clothes, fitting my mask back in place. The others have already cleared away every trace of what went down up here, everything except Bailey, still blindfolded and seething over being ignored. None of us says a word to her, and this doesn't sit right with me. If anyone else ever did anything like this to Roman’s stepsister, I’d remove their dicks from their pathetic fucking bodies.
“I swear to all that is goddamn holy, if you leave me like this, I will find every single one of you and slice your fucking cocks off! I’d wear them as fucking garters. I swear to God!” she shouts, and God, we’re alike. Both murderous and cock hungry.
I move to the crumpled clothes pile on the floor and retrieve Bailey’s phone.
It’s locked.
Hmm.
I type in Roman’s birthday, and it immediatelyunlocks.Knew it.I could see that shit from a fucking mile away.
I press the message icon, then scroll down to Sarah’s message thread. I don’t read a single thing, and instead, I send her a text, letting her know to come and collect Bailey. I don’t care what the others have to say about it. I can’t abandon her like this. Knowing she’s hanging by fucking chains with no idea if anyone will come and rescue her. Fuck that shit!
I look around forsomething, and that’s when I notice there’s a scrap pile of furniture near the back wall. I walk over, focusing on shutting out the world around me, and I grab the off-white sheet covering the furniture.
Think of something else, Cole. I tell myself as I walk back over to where she’s chained. It takes everything in me to tune her out. It’s the only way that I can follow through with this.
“Here,” is all I offer her, and I wrap the sheet around her body, at least giving hersomefucking decency.
“I’m such a fucking idiot. I can’t believe you’d leave me here. I don’t ever want to see any of you again!” she yells, and I know that it’s my cue.
“You didn’t see us in the first place., You’re just a dirty little whore who wanted her holes fucked by faceless monsters. Thanks for the ride,” I say before walking away, leaving my whole, broken fucking heart behind.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
BAILEY
“Do you know what this is about?” Sarah asks, looking over at a cranky as all hell Mrs. Parker, Dean Whitman’s assistant. She peers over the top of her glasses, not bothering to say a single fucking word to us, as usual.
“Thank fuck it’s almost winter break. This place gives me the creeps,” Kayda mutters.
“Don’t worry about her. The old bitch just needs a good dicking. I’ll send her a vibrator for Christmas,” Sarah whispers, causing us to laugh hysterically before we quickly check ourselves. It’s like I’m in high school all over again.
When Mrs. Parker rises from her seat, we stiffen,and she disappears into the dean’s office. “She makes me nervous. My stomach is all messed up,” Kayda says, and I’m right there with her, but for reasons she can never know. The things that I’m guilty of leave everyone in this room’s worst crimes for dead, and I have to get real fucking good at acting because I can’t let anyone know what I know.
“Will you get your shit together. We are grown ass fucking adults. We can walk our asses out of here anytime we want. Don’t let cobweb pussy get to you, girl. We’re about to have ourselves a vacation,” Sarah whisper-yells, and Kayda and I snort, choking back a laugh.
Cobweb pussy.
I don’t know how she comes up with this shit.
The office door swings open, and we jump by instinct. “Come through,” Mrs. Parker says, her thinly drawn eyebrows narrowed on us, before she turns and steps to the side, allowing us to pass through the doorway.
Dread immediately claws at my chest when I take in what’s waiting for us. Behind the dean, three police officers lounge against the wall, arms crossed, each one looking like they eat battery acid for fun, and my stomach is doing somersaults. I conjure every ounce of willpower I have to act as cool and as unfazed as possible, crossing the room.
“Ladies. Would you take a seat, please?” the dean says, and we do.
This isn’t the first time that I’ve been questioned by the police about what happened to Harley a couple of months ago, and I swear it feels worse every time.
When they left me, those masked, murderous fucking assholes, I had never been so humiliated in my entire fucking life. When Sarah walked in and saw me like that, chained to the ceiling, wrapped in nothing but a sheet, I could have died right there from sheer embarrassment.
I still can’t believe I was that stupid.
That trusting.
