Page 55 of Callum

I fucking hate men.

Reaching for his hips, I jerk his underwear down his thighs, making sure they crest his knobbly knees before dropping to rest over the pants at his ankles. Bishop grabs at me, but I avoid his hands gripping into my hair. The angry look that burns in his eyes when his hand closes around empty air tells me I’m out of time.

I’m not fast enough. I’m never fucking fast enough. Bishop’s fingers dig into my arm before I can push far enough away from him, his cold eyes boring into mine as he yanks me back onto his lap.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Hell, probably. I can’t imagine Heaven is in the market for people like me. His fist cracks against my jaw when I don’t respond, sending me spiraling to the ground at his feet. Trying to scramble away from him is the wrong move, his fingers digging into my stitches when he grabs my leg to drag me back toward him.

“I didn’t expect you to have this much fight in you, pretty girl.” Bishop sounds far too pleased with that. I force my body to go limp, letting him pull me all the way back to the couch. The moment I’m back on my knees, I strike. My knuckles slam into the bridge of his nose, snapping his head back violently. I don’t wait around to see the blood come rushing out of his nostrils.

I bolt.

I’m around the back of the couch and sprinting toward the entryway before he even gets a curse out. Bishop’s strangled shout hits my ears at the exact moment I throw open the front door, not caring that I’m in my bra and underwear and will likely end up losing a few toes and at least one nipple if I spend too long in the frigid winter air.

At least I’ll be alive.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Fifteen: Questions and Answers

CALLUM

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Rosalind’s body molds to mine as I crowd her backward through the door, and I don’t stop moving until she’s pressed into the wall. The heavy wood door slams closed behind us, but I don’t hear it. I’m too consumed with the sight in front of me.

She’s in the thinnest lace bra I’ve ever seen, the swirls and netting a stark contrast to her smooth skin beneath, her long legs wholly exposed to the harsh chill of the room.

Rosalind’s wide eyes are frantic as her pulse pounds in her neck, every part of her on the run. Her lower lip is freshly busted, a bead of blood clinging to the jagged rip in her skin.

She’s so beautiful I can hardly breathe.

I see Bishop in the living room from the corner of my eye. He’s scrambling to cover up his hard cock, and all the pieces fall into place.

The back of my hand brushes against the soft skin of Rosalind’s stomach as I reach for my gun, pulling the weapon from the holster under my wool coat. I barely look at Bishop, but I don’t need to.

Two in the heart, one in the head—just like the Father taught me.

Blood sprays across the living room, and I hear Bishop’s body hit the floor. My attention is centered on Rosalind, though. Her breathing has gone ragged, pupils blown wide as she watches me like prey in a trap.

“What are you doing, Red?”

“What am I doing?” She snaps the words back at me, her body leaning into mine until I swear I can feel her heartbeat against my chest. “You’re the one spraying brains all over the—”

My free hand snaps to her throat, cutting off anything else she intends to spit at me. There’s a moment when I consider putting my gun away. I could do the right thing and step back to put some much-needed space between us.

I don’t move.

Neither does she.

“Why are you in your underwear?” She doesn’t answer at first, and I feel her sigh against my palm at her throat. “Answer me, or I’ll start making assumptions.”

“What kind of assumptions?” Rosalind is pure challenge, her head held high even as I have her so thoroughly trapped between my body and the wall behind her. I don’t think she even notices how her legs shift, her thighs spreading to allow me that much closer. “I want to know what kind of person you think I am.”

A cold laugh breaks from my chest, utterly devoid of humor. “You don’t want that.”

“You don’t know what I want anymore, Callum.” Her sentence is punctuated with a small gasp as she finally wiggles one of her legs to the outside of mine. She immediately wraps her calf around my knee, and I brace for her to try and flip us, but she doesn’t.

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