Page 165 of Unhinged
Arrow lifts his brows like he didn’t think she’d fold that fast. “You will?”
“But I want Acid there when I do.”
“Why Acid?” I ask.
She turns her head toward me, smiling that evil little omega smile.
“Because he won’t stop me if I stab him. Just a little.”
Arrow barks out a laugh, and even I can’t help the grin that pulls at my mouth. This is Brydgett. Our omega. Dangerous. Unpredictable. Ours.
God help Marcus.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
BRYDGETT
I find Acid out back, leaning against the clubhouse wall, like he’s waiting for something to explode, or maybe for someone to try him so he can start the explosion himself. He’s got a cigarette in his mouth, boots crossed at the ankle, sunglasses on even though the sky’s cloudy.
“Hey,” I say, walking out barefoot, coffee in hand.
He doesn’t look at me right away. Just shifts slightly, like he knew I was coming. “You call him yet?”
I shake my head. “Wanted you there.”
“Thought so.” He finally turns his head and smirks. “You look well fucked, by the way. Real pretty, just slightly unhinged.”
I take a sip and flip him off. “Thanks. You coming in for the call or what?”
“Yeah, yeah.” He stretches like a cat and then nudges my shoulder as we head back inside. “You gonna stab him?”
“Maybe just a little.”
He grins. “Good. I’ll bring a towel.”
Inside, I grab my phone and plop down on the couch. Acid drops beside me, one leg bouncing, his energy already too damn much. I hesitate, staring at Georgia’s name in my contacts.
“You want me to hit dial for you?” Acid asks, eyebrow raised.
“No.” I click it myself before I can overthink. It rings once. Twice.
She answers on the third ring. “Brydgett?”
“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Of course.”
“Can you go across the hall and tell Marcus I want to speak to him?”
There’s a pause. Not long. Just enough to make me think she’s debating whether to ask questions.
“Alright,” she says gently. “Give me a minute.”
The line goes quiet for a beat or two, and then I hear a door creak and some muffled voices: Georgia’s, then his.
His voice comes through, a little breathless, like he jogged over. “Brydgett?”
My hand tightens around the phone like it might jump out of my grip. Acid watches me but stays quiet, justthere, steady and annoying like always.
