Page 47 of Damaged

Now he knew differently.

Wrath walked through the small room, checking the lamp, each knickknack, even the door frames above the door, closet, and bathroom. Wrath combed through every inch of the small bedroom and after several minutes, Rebel frowned at him.

“What are you looking for?”

Putting a finger to his lips, Wrath then tapped at his ear. Rebel’s eyes went wide and the boy launched off the bed and started searching the room as well.

Listening devices and cameras were so small now that it might be hard to find any. And there might not be any, but Wrath had to make sure.

Wrath turned away from checking the room after finding no cameras or devices and sat on the bed. He quickly assembled the compact nine-millimeter and twisted on its silencer before tucking it away beneath his shirt.

“What’s Mrs. Jackson’s part in all this or is Jeff running the show?”

“She runs things. Jeff is her nephew.”

Now that he had his weapon, he felt much better. Not that he couldn’t have killed them with his bare hands, but this way was quicker.

And he would kill them.

He would take care of this situation and get him and Rebel on the road.

Then he’d find Rogue.

Because if Rogue thought he could walk away without facing him first, then the man was wrong.

Damned wrong.

It pissed him off that Rogue dumped him over a fucking text. But then, had they been more than casual fucks this past month?

Well, yeah, to him they had, but he couldn’t speak for Rogue.

“Are you going to take the bars off the window? I’ve tried, but I can’t do it.”

“No, kid, we’re going out the front door,” Wrath smirked.

When Bill came knocking on Rebel’s door later that night, Wrath opened it.

“You need to sleep in your own room. He’s mine,” Bill slurred, smelling like alcohol. It looked like the asshole had been drinking since dinner.

“Sure.” Wrath gestured with his hand and held the door open.

When Bill stepped inside, Wrath closed the door and then slammed his gun into the back of the fucker’s head. Bill dropped to the floor. Wrath lifted the pillow from Rebel’s bed, pressed it to Bill’s face, and fired two bullets into the man’s head. Even though he had a silencer on his weapon, the pillow would help to further muffle sounds.

Rebel stood quietly and Wrath tossed the boy a quick glance to find his eyes filled with a dull glaze.

Fuck. He had thought that Rebel might be out working the streets for money, but now he knew it was these bastards who came up here every night to fuck the boy.

“Nobody is ever going to touch you again,” Wrath promised.

“He hasn’t been up here in months,” Rebel whispered.

“Probably pissed and jealous that I was here.”

“Maybe,” Rebel whispered. “But mostly it was Jeff. That’s why Bill never came.”

That meant Jeff was the one.

“We’ll get Jeff on our way out,” Wrath promised, pulling Rebel toward the door. “When we get out there, you stay on my ass like glue. You got me?” he rasped, and Rebel nodded, stepping closer.

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