Page 70 of Ramsay

Diem snorts and turns to me with an acidic glower. Despite my unease, I meet his stare, with a brow raised in expectation.

“I would've thought you’d learned your lesson. You know, with your sister's death and rehab, but I guess not,” Ramsay says in his annoying as fuck holier than thou tone.

Up until now, I’ve avoided his presence because although they all have participated in their own way, it’s physically painful to look into Ramsay’s eyes, knowing he’s planning the unthinkable.

I have no use for him. Besides, he’s a dick. I feel like death warmed over and probably look it too, none of which tames the vulnerability squeezing my throat.

Since he’ll only push me until I bend, I turn to him with dead eyes and shrug. “Guess you’re not always right after all.”

His mouth curls into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, but I continue without waiting for a response. “Look, I’d like to go home.”

“Too bad,” Diem cuts in, snidely.

“What is your deal?” I shout.

My hands are shaking, just like fucking Candy’s earlier, and I can’t help the hysterical laugh that escapes me because I was so arrogant before and now look at me.

“You’ve brought a dangerous drug dealer to our door. It’s a problem,” Ramsay says.

“I didn’t do shit,” I sneer.

Diem takes a step toward me, and I feel the first slice of fear in his presence. They’ve never been physically threatening before, but his angry eyes and clenched fists are urging me to be cautious.

“Enough!” Ramsay says. “Once again, you’re a thorn in my fucking side.”

Sighing, I run my trembling fingers over my face and mutter, “You chose to get involved.”

“Oh? And I was just supposed to let the fucker touch you?” Oliver asks, icily behind me.

Blinking, I turn to him and say softly, “Pick a lane.”

“What exactly does that mean?” Ramsay grunts.

“Either you want me to fade away, or you don’t! I didn’t jump in fucking bed with Jagger willingly. I had no choice. Regardless, you did. You could’ve kept walking. This shit isn’t on me.”

“You fucked Jagger?” Diem asks, glancing at Ramsay with wide eyes and I scoff at his incredulous tone. These fuckers are unreal.

Raising my eyes to the ceiling, I pray for something to make fucking sense, before I turn back to him and snarl, “It was a figure of speech, dick. And why the fuck do you care?”

He looks away, his nostrils flared before crossing his arms and saying with disdain, “I don’t give a fuck who you whore around with except for how it affects us.”

Raising my fist, I drop it back to my side when Ramsay interjects with a sigh, “Willow, when you gobbled down whatever the fuck you’re currently coming down from, you made this our issue.”

“How?” I ask, spreading my arms wide.

“You brought a fucking drug dealer to our party!” Diem bellows.

“Bone—“ I start to say.

“Is under our protection,” Ramsay finishes, throwing Diem a disapproving glare.

Confused, I glance between the three of them, but it’s like looking into a mirror, nothing stares back at me. Dropping my head, I mutter, “I didn’t ask Jagger to come around. I can’t exactly control him either.”

“Then why were you high as a fucking kite and snuggled up to him?” Oliver asks, standing from his lean against the wall.

“The lesser of two evils,” I say softly.

“Getting high,” he says, arching his brows, “and fucking Jagger is what again?”

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