Page 20 of Psycho Sinners

“The bitch bit me,” he barked, and I heard the sharp laugh of Cristian as my gaze rolled over the fuzzy room.

I spied Cristian alongside a man in a suit, who was watching me with an intensity that made my heart stutter.

The man holding me finally released me as he shoved me onto the floor, and I collapsed, drawing in ragged, painful breaths. Each gasp was like shards of glass in my throat, but I inhaled the pain, the escape of death not something I truly chased.

"Didn't you get the memo, little pyro?” he sneered as the horrid gray rug seemed to breathe beneath me, my vision still fuzzy. "We solved your problems; we made them go away. You owe us for that.”

I steadied myself on all fours, willing my breathing to ease and my heart to slow. His words were like a knife to the gut, and fear laced my voice despite my best efforts. "What did you do to Tommy?"

I shuddered as someone dropped to their knees beside me, one hand capturing my chin and turning my face.

I stared into Cristian’s wretched eyes, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. “Relax, kitten. He's swimming with the fishes,” he said, mimicking a gangster from an old-time movie.

Laughter fell from his mouth, callous and biting, echoing off walls that seemed to close in with each chortle as my stomach plummeted. I swallowed the knot forming in my throat, the taste of panic stark against my tongue. Tommy couldn't be...

"You should be grateful, kitten. No jail time for you, just service to us. That was the agreement.” His thumb brushed over my lips, and I felt the blood drying on them from the bite I’d delivered his brother.

The chill in the room had nothing on the ice flooding my veins. My heart thundered, a wild thing caged by ribs that suddenly felt too frail.

The agreement? What fucking agreement?

“Did you actually care for that prick, kitten? Such a shame,” Cristian's voice cut through again, dripping with mock sympathy. A part of me wanted to launch at him, teeth bared, but I was frozen, his words swirling around me like shadows ready to claim me.

Had I sentenced Tommy to his grave?

"You signed up for this, pyro.” My gaze moved to the brother who was now touching the wound on his head. "Our help?—"

"Help?" The word escaped me like a bullet. "I was drunk out of my mind."

“Is that true?”

Cristian rolled his eyes as I looked to the brother in the navy suit, his voice rich and deep. He was broader than the other two, although he harbored the same dark eyes. His were cold and calculating, studying me like I held many secrets he wished to unravel.

“So she had a few drinks when she agreed, she still agreed,” Cristian said with a shrug as he released my face and rose.

“Cristian.” The lone word carried enough weight that my teeth gritted, but Cristian was unbothered as he strode back to the kitchen.

“Who cares, Ty? She’s fun. We could all use a little fun.”

Ty. So that was the big one’s name. I’d remember that. Now I just needed to figure out the name of the one I’d attacked, who was dabbing at his head with a kitchen cloth and nursing a mug of what I assumed was coffee. Was getting attacked a normal occurrence for him?

“Whether you like it or not, princess, you got our help. And our help comes at a price,” Ty said as he moved around the kitchen island, his mug still in hand. His polished suit and giant frame screamed money and discipline. His hair wasn’t blond like the other two, although he had similar features. Definitely brothers despite his dark brown crew cut hair.

He reminded me of someone military with how he held himself, a man few would ever oppose. His presence alone would make most men second-guess themselves.

Too bad I wasn’t a man.

“I didn’t want your help.” My throat was on fire, slivers of ice inside with every word I’d uttered.

“That’s irrelevant now. You got it, and you need to pay for it.” Ty paused a few feet from me, staring me down like I was some wretched dog on the floor before him.

“And if I refuse?”

“Then you get to wind up like Tommy.” Mr. Hair Dryer head stated, and a cold shiver rippled over me.

“You’re ours now, kitten,” Cristian stated as he sipped his hot drink, those bare feet silent as he strode back over.

“Go fuck yourself,” I managed to rasp out, the inflammation in my throat now making words near impossible.

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