Page 62 of Ruthless God

He squeezes my neck hard, and my core dampens the silk sheets. Usually, shame comes from me liking it rough, but it doesn’t come this time.

“Ask me what I always wanted from you, Lyrical. Ask me what I always wanted, and I’ll reward you like a good girl.”

I don’t want to hear his answer, but if I don’t, Snow is going to force me to ask. I’m exhausted from all the sex, and even though I want to go for another round, I don’t know if my body can handle it.

“What did you always want from me, Snow?” I swallow thickly, and it feels like cotton in my mouth.

“You wanting to be mine.”

Snow

Ispend the whole night fucking Lyrical like a madman. I needed more of her and have gotten addicted to her so easily. She’s what I think about when I first wake up and the last thing I think about when my head hits the pillow at night.

I watch her paint in her art room that I built. She loves it, and like old times, she would paint as I watch her in her element while reading a nonfiction book. She’s more beautiful than anything I have ever laid my eyes on.

Once she’s finished painting, I tell her we need to talk. I make my way to the couch, Lyrical covered in dried-up paint.

I always thought she was the prettiest in her natural form: no makeup, hair tied up into a bun, wearing one of my old T-shirts. She hasn’t changed and she still steals my hoodies and clothes. Though I’m not going to lie to myself, I don’t mind. I’d rather her wear my shit than wear another man’s clothing. She flips through Netflix, biting her bottom lip while trying to find something to watch. When her eyes veer up, a slight flush creeps up to her cheeks.

I take the remote from her hand and set it on the coffee table. Her lips are red and bee-stung and I want those lips wrapped around the crown of my dick.

“Why were you at your parents’ place a few days ago?”

“I knew it. You have a tracker on my phone.”

“Yes, I do.”

“For how long?”

“Since the first day I met you when we were told that we were going to be married. Are you spooked?”

She shakes her head. “No. It’s hot that you’re obsessed with me. I figured you had a tracker on me so you could keep track of me when you can’t follow me on campus.” She pauses. “I showed my father the picture of Bailey and the man.” She nibbles on her thumbnail. “The symbol represents the mafia family but the crossed-out snake means he’s not part of the mafia anymore. Also, they disbanded the sex trafficking ring.”

I don’t believe what I hear, so I crinkle the corner of my mouth. “That doesn’t sound like Bailey, dating a mafia man.”

She nods, dusting off her T-shirt. “I went through her clothing because I wanted to see what I wanted to keep of her things, and she had a shirt with the Viper logo, so I looked it up and the mafia owns it, an infamous underboss who goes by the name Dante. It’s a strip joint. I have a theory, though, but you won’t like it.” She sits on her knees. “She was working at this strip club so she could save enough money to run away from her home. She hated Tim, by the way. She hated the whole arranged marriage deal. And she mentioned it in a joking way that one day she was going to leave everything behind and run off with her prince.”

Her words are a blow to the chest and I don’t want to believe them, but, deep down, I know she is right. My sister wasn’t happy, and I wasn’t there for her like I should have been, too busy trying to get my father’s approval to hand methe Billionaire Club. I tried my best to help her with her mental illness as much as I could, but nothing I did worked. She rebelled against me.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Bailey was whoring herself to get paid, or the guy was pimping her out to feed her drug habit, too. Even though we made a pact to never do drugs again, she still did it and the last fight we had were about her popping Molly. It was about two months before the car accident. I told her we’re getting married soon, that we need to get clean. I only did drugs with her so she felt like she wasn’t alone, Snow. She felt like everyone was against her and I didn’t want her to feel like I was too. I didn’t want her to feel like no one loved her. You have to believe me, I te—”

I nod, twirling her hair around my finger. “I believe you, Blue.”

This is so much to process. Since Bailey was dealing with a human trafficker, my parents weren’t paying enough attention to her. In a sense, they neglected her. My baby sister was suffering in her final years, and it pushed her into the wrong hands. Whoever the guy is in the picture with the tattoo is going to suffer. I want his blood spilled. The more I learn about Bailey, the more I feel as if I failed her. I should have been there for her, protecting her.

My parents failed her—Ifailed her.

My sister needed me, and I turned a blind eye because I couldn’t see her suffering. Instead of being a big brother, I shut her out.

Lyrical’s eyes suddenly light up and a smile spreads across her face. She faces me with her legs crossed, and I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“I have a stupid, crazy-ass idea.” She beams.

“We go to the strip club, talk to Dante, and ask questions about Bailey.”

There is something that hasn’t changed about Blue. She doesn’t think things through. When she wants to get shit done, she never thinks about the outcome. It could be another target on her back, because the mafia doesn’t like people asking questions about people they dealt with.

I grit my teeth. “No, Lyrical.”

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