You’re not in control here. You no longer own me.
No one steps in to help us, but no one is looking at Ric kindly either. They just watch. Most of the people Ric has stolen from are in this room. There will be no love lost now.
“You’re going to pay for this,” Ric warns, and tries to leap at me again.
Wylan, nonchalantly grabs the hand Ric reaches for me with, and twists. No emotion crosses Wylan’s face, but the crack is so loud, I flinch.
Right before Ric starts to scream.
Dagen grabs me and starts leading me out of the room before the scream has risen to its shrillest sound. He pats a few people on the shoulder as we pass, murmuring thanks as if we’d just had a grand ole time here.
“Looking forward to the meeting next week, David. See you then,” he tells an older man as we pass.
The man nods, respect in his eyes. “See you next week, Fox.”
No one stops us from leaving. No one steps forward to help Ric with his broken hand.
Most importantly of all, no one stops Wylan when he grabs the large tray of shrimp cocktails and salutes everyone with one of them before he bites into it.
“Enjoy the rest of your party, you bloody heathens!” he shouts.
For the first time since everyone grew quiet, I hear a sound.
It’s laughter. They fucking laugh.
And once it starts, they all join in.
Thirty-Six
Ava
The limo is waiting for us when we step out of the party, but so are the cameras. The flashes go off as we exit, nearly blinding me, but Dagen’s arm on mine keeps me from stumbling on the red carpet. I think I remember to smile. I’m not sure. My mind is too much of a whirlwind to think about what the muscles on my face are doing.
Only as Dagen helps me into the limo do I think about what the others might be doing. But I shouldn’t have worried. Normally, Wylan would never leave a front entrance, but here he is, sticking close to me, that large shrimp tray in his hand. His mask is firmly in place, hiding his identity as he hands the shrimp tray to one of the photographers.
“Enjoy yourself, chap,” he tells him, before following after us.
Felix is following behind him, his laptop hidden under his arm. His eyes are shining bright behind his mask, those same eyes that latch onto me as I’m ushered toward the limo. The photographers shout at us as we pass, asking questions I can’t answer even if I wanted to. They’re not allowed inside, but every tech bigwig is inside that building, and they’re eager to get any tidbits they can write about in their fancy magazines.
Dagen opens the door to the limo and pushes on my lower back to get me inside. Before I can duck down, the venue doors violently burst open behind us, the doors slamming against the wall when nothing is there to stop them. We turn to look, and my eyes widen when I see Ric standing there, his broken wrist cradled against his chest.
“You’re going to wish you never fucked with Ricardo McCoy!” he snarls, but his voice lacks any real infliction due to the pain in his tone. “You’re all going to pay for this!” He disappears into the crowd of reporters before any of us can respond, leaving me equal parts anxious and afraid as the cameras go off.
Cornered dogs often bite. Cornered dogs with nothing left to lose can tear you apart.
“Should we worry about that?” I rasp as Dagen gently helps me into the limo.
He slides in after me before Felix and Wylan follow. The door closes behind us, the limo pulls away, and everyone relaxes. It’s as if being certain that we don’t share the same air as Ric makes the very atmosphere lighter.
“Nothing to worry about,” Dagen answers confidently. “He can’t touch us. We have the most extensive security system anyone has ever created and plenty of security guards. He knows that.”
Wylan leans back in the seat across from me, his legs spread as he pops his mask off and tosses it to the side. His eyes trail up my exposed legs and settle on my face. He addresses Dagen without ever looking away from me. “In my experience, kicked dogs shouldn’t be underestimated.”
“I’m not underestimating him,” Dagen counters. “I know precisely every move he’s going to make.”
Wylan doesn’t look convinced, and when I glance over at Felix, he looks like he agrees with Wylan more than he does with Dagen.
“Are you sure?—”
