Page 78 of Ravage

Well, it's torture for whoever I'm dealing with at the time.

My left hand is firmly pressed against the nape of Rian Thatcher while my foot crushes his calf. I finish sending my reply to Avery, shoving the cell into my right pocket.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," he growls again, whining as I tighten my grip.

"We saw you emerging from the office. Don't lie," I say calmly. "Just tell me what you were there for."

For a scrawny thing, he's quite strong. Despite my hand holding his head down, he manages well to push back and engage his neck muscles. Though, when you have the right motivation…

We're in the male restrooms, Rian dangling over the urinal basin. If his strength gives out at any point, he'll land face first in a puddle of piss—and whatever thatredstuff is.

Okay—I might be exaggerating a little bit. I know the red stuff is blood. I put it there for dramatic flair.

As usual, I combed through the new kid's file, getting an idea of his wonderfulpersonalitytraits. It turns out that he has a phobia of bodily fluids—a germaphobe.

Which, in the grand scheme of it, seems a bit strange considering when he was arrested, he was apparently covered ina lotof blood.

Normally, I'd be more understanding of trauma but considering we know that Arthur had words with him when he first arrived, it's clear our warning didn't hit the intended mark.

Andy spotted him returning from Arthur's office again, and with recent events, it's safe to say I have no fucking limitations or boundaries when it comes to protecting my girl.

I'll happily break this fucker into a thousand pieces without a second thought.

"I was called there," Rian snaps back, eyes narrowing into slits at the mess below him. "I didn't have a choice."

"What did he want?" I ask, his voice grating on my final nerve. "I alreadyknowyou were there.Whyis the answer I need."

I'm a bit more forceful this time, shoving my weight and pressure against his neck while my foot squishes his calf painfully. The two actions make him jolt, head dipping lower as he lets out a grunt of pain.

"He asked… he just asked if I was doing alright," he grumbles.

I tsk at him, shaking my head. Arthur doesn't have a caring bone in his body—the idea that he was solely conducting a welfare check on the new kid smells of bullshit. "I can feel your pulse jumping under my fingers. Don't lie to me, Rian."

Moving my foot from his leg, I rest it on his glutes, shoving him. The movement forces him down further, his spine unable to bear the weight in this position.

"I'll make you lick this up if you don't come clean to me," I warn, now holding his head up. The piss is right under his nose, his body dry-heaving as the smell assaults his senses. Part of me hopes he does vomit to add to the mess.

"Okay, okay!" he chokes out, making retching noises. "He asked me to befriend someone."

"There we go…" I say in a soothing, praiseful tone, lifting him up slightly. "Give me the name."

Rian takes large gulping breaths through his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. "That blonde haired girl—Victoria or something."

"Vivian?"

"Yeah, her."

I push him down harshly, kicking him simultaneously as I release him. He slips and fumbles, landing in the urinal face first with a squeal as I step back, just out of the way of the splashback.

"If I can offer any advice," I say, watching as he scrambles to the sink to scrub his face, feet slipping on the tiles. "Don't."

He throws water on his face, rubbing his hands vigorously over his skin. "Why do you even care?" he pants. "She's not your girlfriend. You're with that other girl."

That other girl.

I don't take kindly to the fact that he's referring to Avery as if she's just some average female, not even worthy of a name. I storm toward him, my hand grabbing a fistful of his hair as I pull back, slamming his face forward. The glass mirror shattersagainst his forehead, the loud bang and echo of fallen glass bouncing around the tiled room.

Rian drops to his knees in a daze, groaning in pain as he clutches his bleeding forehead.

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