Page 14 of Desperately Delicate Viper

At least this way I’ll be well fed and nicely dressed for the rest of whatever mind-fuck he has planned for me.

Chapter 7

ANDERS

“Whydon’tyoutakeyour cheap ass and—”

I slam the door hard behind me, and whatever dear old dad was about to say about my “cheap ass” ends in a shatter of glass instead. A trickle of amber liquid spills under the door and I shake my head. Wasting some of his own booze is sure to improve his mood. I roll my eyes and haul ass for the stairs before he can stumble his drunk ass over to the door to keep berating me.

Fuck knows what even set him off tonight. Maybe in the depths of his pickled brain he can feel the ticking clock too, telling him his free ride is almost up.

Seriously though,cheap? He’s fucking dreaming if he thinks a thousand bucks per fuck ischeap. I huff and jog down the steps at a thunderous pace, not bothering to look back. When I hit the ground floor, something strange occurs to me. My heart isn’t pounding, my palms aren’t sweating, and my stomach isn’t in knots. I’m not afraid of him anymore. Maybe it’s because I’m exactly eighteen days from never having to look at his ugly faceagain. Or maybe the threat of a stray fist is nothing compared to walking around with a target on my back courtesy of the Morettis.

I flip my middle fingers up over my shoulder on my way out the door, even though I’m positive the old man didn’t make it past our own front door with the state he’s in. I step out onto the sidewalk and then lean against the side of the building, considering my options for a few minutes. Do I want to risk going back to Wonderland tonight? Take my chances in the warehouse district? Some stupid part of me forces me to pull out my phone and double check the cash app just to make sure Luca didn’t pay me again, but there’s nothing new since he sent the second thousand last night.

My heart wasn’t racing when my dad shouted me out of the apartment, but it starts to pick up speed now. I’m not entirely sure the flutter in my gut at the thought of Luca is fear though, at least not entirely.

A frustrated feeling sinks heavily into the pit of my stomach. I didn’t expect Luca to just keep sending me money for nothing, of course. I still don’t even understand why he did it yesterday. I can’t believe I bought into that obnoxious “you’re mine”bullshit. I’m not his. I’m fucking done belonging to anyone other than myself, and if he wants to test that theory, I’m happy to introduce my knee to his balls a second time.

My affection-starved brain serves me up an array ofotherthings I could do to Luca’s balls that would probably be more mutually enjoyable. I growl under my breath and shake the thought off. Warehouse district it is tonight. I’m only fifty-fifty that Luca is planning to kill me at this point, but I’m not sure whatI’lldo if I see him again, so I’d rather not risk it.

Before I can shove my phone into my pocket and head to the nearest bus stop, it buzzes with an incoming message.

FINN: Ands yoo arond?

A stone sinks in my stomach.

ANDERS: What’s wrong, Finny? You drunk?

I know he is. Misspelled texts are a dead giveaway, and so is the fact that his message was so short. He knows I hate it when he drinks, given our dad’s issues. But he’s in college, so I get that he’s going to let loose on occasion, especially when I’m sure everyone is in party mode with graduation so close.

FINN: idk. I had one drnk but I dnt fel good

“Fuckity fuck fuck,” I hiss, tapping my foot against the sidewalk for half a second before making up my mind.

ANDERS: Sit tight, don’t leave with ANYONE, I’ll be there as soon as I can.

I don’t have the patience to fuck with the bus right now when someone likely slipped my brother something, so I order a ride and then spend the next three minutes pacing back and forth until the car pulls up.

It’s a twenty-minute ride to campus, and I spend the entire time with my eyes glued to my screen, watching Finn’s location to make sure it doesn’t move. I’m not sure whether I’m radiating anxious energy or if my driver is usually a twitchy guy, but every time I look up, he’s checking his rearview mirror like he’s afraid we’re being followed. Maybe he pissed off the Morettis too. Not my problem. Whatismy problem is that Finn’s location marker starts to move when we’re about three minutes away.

“Shit,” I mutter.

“You see that too? I’m not being paranoid, right?” the driver asks.

“What?” I frown, not even looking up from my phone to figure out what the hell he’s talking about. The plastic edges bite into my fingers and I gnaw on my bottom lip, watching the dot move slowly away from the frat house where I’m assuming the party was.

“Nothing,” the driver mutters.

“Stop,” I shout when I see Finn’s dot veer off. I’m as close as I’m going to get in a car. He slams on the brakes and I’m out of the car before it’s even come to a full stop. “Thanks,” I shout over my shoulder. I have no clue if I closed the car door behind me or not, but I do make a mental note to tip the guy and give him five stars once I find my brother.

Holding up my phone to watch his moving location, I jog down the well-lit sidewalk, ignoring the questioning looks of the students I pass. The streetlamps that line the sidewalk get more sparse near the dorms, leaving dark alleys between some of the buildings.

“Hey, don’t,” I hear Finn slur.

“Shh. Relax, baby,” another deep voice answers, and I see red.

My phone clatters out of my hand and my bag bounces against my thigh as I sprint towards the voices, my teeth clenched and my adrenaline raging. They come into view in the darkness, the fucker who drugged him—or atbestsaw Finn stumbling drunk and decided to take advantage—has him up against the wall with his hands all over my brother. Finn’s arms hang limp at his sides like he’s already given up trying to push this asshole off of him.

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