Page 99 of Slaughter

The door opens, and Tristan sticks his head in. He looks at her lying there passed out still in my shirt, the covers pulled up to her stomach. Franklin redid the stitches in her neck ’cause they were half-assed at best.

“What?” I snap, fisting my hands down by my sides.

His eyes go to mine. They soften, and he lets out a long breath as if he has bad news to deliver. Like anything could be more heartbreaking than finding her naked and tied up like an animal. “May I speak to you …?”

“Get out!” I order to Franklin. He does but mumbles something at me under his breath. The old man doesn’t wanna fuck with me today. “What is it?”

Tristan walks over to me. His eyes drop to her sleeping form before returning to mine. He opens his mouth and then shuts it as if he’s not sure what he wants to say. “What do you want to do about Darrell?” Tristan finally asks.

“Is he still at the warehouse?”

He nods. “Kayn was going to go and get him. Dispose of the body.”

“No. Tell him to keep him there.” He frowns. “I want to make an example of him.” I look down at her. “Things have changed. Damon is no longer a threat.” I run a hand through my hair and look back at him. “Vaughn wants her, and for some fucking reason, he didn’t kill her. He’s playing some sick game.”

He opens his mouth, and I pause, waiting for him to say something. Then he shuts it. “If you have something to say, then you need to spit it out,” I snap.

He shakes his head, and whispers, “It can wait.”

I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about, but I can agree. She is my main focus right now. “Call up all of our men. I want them at the warehouse in two hours.” He frowns. “I’m gonna show them what happens when you betray me.”

He nods and then leaves without another word.

PRESLEIGH

The ringing has dulled to an annoying hum. The pain in my head is now a throbbing. The taste of blood still lingers in my mouth but not as bad. I open my heavy eyes and try to blink away the harsh light.

“She needs rest. A few days and she should be better.” I see an older man who I don’t know over by the door talking to Avery. His back toward me. “This could have been a lot worse—”

“I fucking know that,” he snaps, interrupting him. He wears blue jeans and a black T-shirt. I can see how tense his shoulders are, and he shoves a hand through his dark hair.

“As far as I can see, the mild concussion is the worst of it. She has cuts and bruises, but nothing that won’t heal over time. I’m giving her a prescription for antibiotics to fight infection.” Ripping my own skin open with dirty nails and lying on a dirty concrete floor isn’t very sanitary. “And pain meds. She should be feeling much better in a few days.”

I lick my cracked lips. “Avery.” It comes out rough.

He spins around, and his narrowed eyes instantly soften when he sees me. “Bunny.” He rushes over to me and crawls onto the bed. “Hey, baby. How do you feel?”

“Tired.”

“You need lots of rest,” the older man says, coming to stand at the foot of the bed. His eyes go to Avery and then back to mine. “You were very lucky. I’ve given you some meds that will help. If you experience any more vomiting or dizziness, you need to let me know.”

Avery gets off the bed and walks toward the door. The man takes the hint. He is being dismissed. “I’ll be right back,” Avery tells me before they both walk out.

I roll over onto my side and realize I have to use the restroom. It takes me a second to shove the heavy covers off me, but then I sit up on the side of the bed and place my feet on the red rug. The room sways a little bit, but I push up onto my feet. My legs are heavy, and my vision kinda blurs for a second. I place my hand on the bed and take my first step. It takes me longer than usual, due to dehydration and starvation. Plus the beatings I took didn’t help.

Walking into the bathroom, I shut the door behind me and close my swollen eyes. Taking a deep breath, I move to the front of the mirror and open them to look at the damage.

My eyes aren’t nearly as bad as they feel. One is a little swollen but not to the point I can’t open it. I have a bruise on my cheek along with cuts here and there. My neck looks the worse from the collar they put on me. And my hands shake when I run the tips of my fingers over them. Making me flinch.

I wake to a dark and cold room. My hands come up to grip my head as it pounds. Sitting up, I look down at my body to see I’m naked. Fear creeps up my spine.

“Avery?” I call out.

What happened? Where am I?

I look to my left and squint in the darkness. I try to even out my breathing, but it grows frantic when my vison adjusts to the lack of light, and I see a concrete wall. Then to my right. Another concrete wall. That fear intensifies, taking my breath away.

Did I do something for him to have to punish me? Is he still mad at me for the way I spoke at that party he took me to? Or what I said at his house? When I didn’t want to leave him?

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