Page 49 of Beautifully Wounded

“How old are you, Charity?”

I growl under my fucking breath at his question, like he doesn’t fucking believe me when I said she’s old enough.

“Eighteen,” she answers, a little more steel in her tone this time.

Good girl.

Slowly, Smitty’s grin contorts as he throws his head back in a roar of laughter, his hand slapping to his knee. “Eighteen. Fuck, man. She’s only just scraping over the line of being legal.”

“Legal is fucking legal,” I snap, and he nods, even as he reaches for his smokes and taps out a durry.

“True.” He chuckles again, lighting up and taking in a deep drag before blowing the smoke up in the air between us.

“So, how did this all happen?” Smitty gestures with his cigarette to me and Abbey and I ease her back to relax against me, placing my hand over hers resting on her thigh.

“Well, I came across her in Timber Valley. It’s made my trips to see Griffin worth it.” I lie easily and chuckle, shooting Smitty a wink which pleases him if his grin is anything to go by.

“I bet. And you brought her back just in time for the five-day snap lockdown.”

I nod, “Yeah. Gives me more time to enjoy her.”

I ignore the way she stiffens at my words, and I hope she remembers that this is all a ruse.

“No wonder you were antsy to get back to your room.” Smitty chuckles, taking another drag of his cigarette. “She a sub like Kylie?”

For fuck’s sake. I wish he’d stop saying Kylie’s fucking name. He knows how much I hate hearing it.

“She is.” I grit out, keeping up the fucking ruse. “And if you don’t mind, I’d like to take her back and punish her for leaving the room when I explicitly said not to.”

“By all means,” my Prez gestures with his durry between his fingers to the open door, “Have at it. And enjoy.”

“Oh, I fucking will.” I lace my tone with fucking anticipation, trying to put on a good fucking show, even as my captive whimpers from the abrupt way I stand, letting her slip off my lap and scurry to stand.

Smitty’s chuckles follow us out as I lead Abbey with a tight grip on her arm, like she’s in fucking trouble.

While part of me wants to scold her for leaving the fucking room when I told her not to, my anger is better directed towards Brody, who had one fucking job to do, and like always, fucking failed.

“Ringo.” Abbey’s timid tone meets my ears, but I hiss in response.

“Don’t say a fucking word.”

The crowd parts when they see me approaching, dragging the blonde beauty I just declared as mine across the fucking courtyard.

Jols steps up at our side, hurrying beside us and goes to speak, but I hold a finger up to stop her.

“I’m fucking busy.”

“But I need to know,” Jols snaps, hurrying to keep up.

“You don’t need to know shit. Nothing has changed.” I spit, getting more and more furious with every fucking step I take that brings me closer to my shitty motel room.

“You didn’t tell him about…” she trails off as I stop at my door, spinning to face her with Abbey’s arm still caught in my firm grip.

“I told him about meeting Charity in Timber Valley when I went to meet Griffin. I told him how she’s fucking mine. How I’ve claimed her. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to make fucking sure it appears like I’m telling the fucking truth.”

Jols frowns. “What do you mean?”

I reach back and open my door before snarling in Jols’ face, letting her take the brunt of my rage, even though Brody is the only one that deserves it.

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