“Gina said he’s in critical condition, and probably won’t make it through the night!”
“So, I’ve heard.” He can’t hide his smirk.
“This isn’t funny, Warden! You said you would only rough him up a little bit, not fucking kill him.”
When I go to smack him again, someone stops my hand mid-swing… Arturo.
“Don’t hit him again.”
I spin on my heels, poking the asshole in the chest. “You let this happen!” I shout. “You both said there wouldn’t be bloodshed.”
“Oh, we never promised there wouldn’t be bloodshed, sweetheart. Just that “we” wouldn’t kill him.” He air quotes the word mockingly. “And we didn’t kill him. He’s still alive. Unfortunately.”
“I can’t believe you.” My voice is so loud it carries over the thumping bass of a metal song roaring through the sound system. “I didn’t want this. I just wanted Eddie to hurt. Not for Wesley to… to…” I can’t even finish the words without feeling guilty.
“Face it, Poppy, if it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have known how to get under that punkass VP’s skin. Now, once my girl gives him a ring, we’re going to meet him on the road and take him and his whole club out. Problem solved,” Warden informs me.
“They weren’t even bothering you!” I challenge.
“Their existence bothers me, Poppy, and if you’re not careful, yours might too.”
“What? You gonna kill me too, Warden? Go for it! Kill me!” I throw my hands out, welcoming death with open arms. I won’t be able to live with myself if Wesley dies. That’s not what I wanted.
He smirks. “Arturo, get your girl out of here before she makes me do something stupid. Make sure she realizes who the fuck is in charge here.”
Arturo grabs me by my waist, lifting me off my feet. “What are you scared of, Warden? Can’t take out a girl yourself?”
His laughter fills the room. “Bitch, I’m not afraid to take out a fucking woman, but I may still need you if this shit doesn’t go the way we have planned.”
“Fuck you!” I holler as Arturo carts me toward our shared bedroom. “I’m not helping you ever again.”
Warden seems pleased as he takes another long drawn out sip of his drink. “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. Don’t forget who feeds that little habit you have.”
Arturo pauses for a few seconds as a strange growl vibrates from his chest. He doesn’t say a word, not until we’re behind a closed door and he violently throws me on the bed.
My body bounces off the mattress, and I’m launched a few feet in the air before hitting the floor, my head knocking against the cold concrete.
“What the fuck, Arturo?” I snap, rubbing at the knot already forming on my head. “Did you really have to throw me like that?”
He backhands me the second I bring myself to my knees, his ring cutting into my cheek. “Shut the fuck up, you stupid whore.”
“Whore? I’m not a fucking whore!”
He laughs bitterly. “Aren’t you though? I’ve heard about your life before you came here. What you would do to get your fix. How many men have been inside of you, Poppy? How many diseases have you carried?”
None, thankfully.
“Fuck you!” I bite back, even though the sting across my cheek tells me to keep my tongue.
Another vicious slap almost knocks me unconscious.
“I’d suggest you keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you.”
He loosens his tie, rolling back his cufflinks. Unlike the other bastards in this club, Arturo still works for Moseley, so he dons a suit most days, his allegiance in a strange limbo.
“We seem to be having a power struggle, my pet.” He undoes his belt, the metal clanging against the ground as a warning. “Do I need to beat my bitch into submission?”
Just the thought of it has me already cowering. “No,” I whisper, my voice coming out weak and stripped of courage.
