Page 94 of Twisted in Obsession

I swallow hard when a large skyscraper comes into view. Standing tall with lights making the outside appear dark blue and then, turning pink, highlights the massive headquarters of Jericho's father—Gabriel Viotto. The place they run their empire out of. I would give anything to stick a bomb on every floor and watch it fucking burn.

“Oh, Kitten! I got you a present,” Arrow says, poking his tongue out as he digs into the depths of his jean pocket.

“A present?” I ask when he finally shoves a tiny, lidded jar into my hands. I hold it up to my face, my eyebrows furrowing. “What is it?” I ask, shaking the two tiny white objects around until they clink against the glass, looking suspiciously like two large teeth.

“Leighton’s teeth,” he says with a smug grin and straightens his spine. “He parted with them so easily, unlike his finger,” he grumbles the last part, delivering the news like it’s no big deal. “They really do make the best presents. Teeth especially. Just call me the tooth fairy.”

A goddamn finger? Shit. I swallow down the bile rising in my throat. I've seen this before. This doesn't affect me. I can do this.

“How did these come out so easily?” Shaking them around a bit, Arrow’s smile returns, and he beams at me.

“Nothing beats a good punch or two. And then bam! They rolled right out of his head. They’re nice presents, right? I’ll always have presents for you, Kitten,” he says in a low voice, running his fingers through the bushy mess my hair has become since this morning when I fixed it up after work. “You should see the one in my room. You’ll absolutely love it,” he purrs.

“So, you beat his ass?” I ask, leaning back into the seat.

“More than?—”

“Arrow, I don’t think Journey needs to hear about your extracurricular activities with sharp objects,” Jericho reprimands, undoing the first three buttons of his white undershirt. He inhales a deep breath, seeming to relax into the seat.

“Next time,” I stage whisper in Arrow’s direction, earning a chuckle.

“You got it, Kitten,” he says, winking when Jericho clears his throat, drawing my attention back to him.

“We have a few things to discuss with you,” Jericho says, demanding the attention of everyone in the vehicle, including Shepp. Without warning, the car veers down a familiar road, leading directly toward the trailer park I grew up in.

My fucking hell.

It's located in the heart of the city. A forgotten lot, filled with old trailers from the 1960s. And surrounded by massive businesses on either side. Only a tall, wooden fence blocks the sound of the growing city and the people running it. For me, it was always convenient. School was three blocks away. The laundromat was less than a mile. Anything I needed was at my fingertips. Which also meant my mom had access to her clients and drugs.

Shepp pulls the car directly in front of my dark yellow trailer, faded from the years of sitting here. Usually, the living room light leaks through the windows to outside, giving me an indication as to what my mother's up to—men, usually. But tonight? Even her shitty car is gone and everything looks devoid of life.

I swallow hard. “What kinds of things?” I ask, cocking a brow as I settle against Jericho with eager eyes, awaiting his direction. Because I’m sure whatever this asshole has to say will be as pretentious as he’s acting.

I'll play the part of the dutiful little prisoner until I can grab the key from his coat and run for my life.

“Follow me,” he says cockily, pulling me out of the backseat and toward the side door of my trailer.

“Like I have a choice!” I grit out, stumbling over my damn feet as he drags me through the rock driveway and onto the small wooden deck. My brows furrow. My eyes lock on the large red sticker on the front door. “Condemned?” I breathe. “There's no fucking way!” I glare at him. “What did you do?”

“I'm the law, Little Chaos,” is all he says as he stares at the sticker with pride. I swear his chest puffs out. Like he did something fucking good.

“You're not the goddamn law, you're…”

An asshole. A fuck nugget! So many words bounce off my skull, but I'm silenced by fucking Jericho Viotto. Like lightning, he reaches out, squeezing my throat in his massive hand. Rage soars through me at the feel of his skin against mine when I reach up and squeeze his wrist in warning.

“Oh, Little Chaos. I am the goddamn king of this kingdom. Your king. The fucking law before your eyes. One day, you'll bow to me on your hands and knees.” With every word he says, he tightens his grip on my neck until my lips flop open, begging for air. Finally, he lets loose and presses his lips against my cheek.

I narrow my eyes, taking in much-needed air. “Where's my mom?” I croak.

He licks his lips, searching my face again. “Rehab. Thought that might make you happy.”

“Rehab? Happy?” I sputter. “Since when do you care about my happiness?”

“You're a runner, Kitten,” Arrow coos, stepping onto the tiny deck with a grin. “This is our insurance.” He waves a hand at the empty trailer like I'm sad my mom is out of there and I don't have to deal with her anymore.

“Insurance?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“Runner,” Arrow sings again, leaning against the wooden railing. “If we didn't take away your home, you'd come running here the first chance you got and hide out. Not that I wouldn't know where you are.” His smile sends shivers down my spine like he's trying to tell me something I don't know. He's hiding something.

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