Page 51 of Killer's Obsession
“Aww, you guys are so cute,” Pinky coos. “The big scary enforcer has claimed his old lady. They spend their nights slinging ink and watching Netflix. That would make a good story. Don’t you think?”
My hand freezes mid-pattern on the duvet. “What did you just say?”
There’s a beat of silence.
“What?” Pinky’s voice has gone up an octave.
“You just said he’s claimed his old lady.”
“I, um...” She’s stammering now. “It’s just an expression, you know?”
“No.” I sit up straighter, my heart beginning to pound. I’ve gotten to know Pinky like a sister over the last few weeks. She’s hiding something. “It’s not. He’s explained this life—his life to me, Pinky. It’s not just an expression, and you know it. “
“Memphis—”
“Pinky.” My voice is firm. “What aren’t you telling me?”
She sighs heavily, and I instantly know whatever she’s about to tell me, I’m not going to like. “Shit. I told him I didn’t like this. I’m not good at keeping secrets. Everybody knows that! I’m an open book!” She rambles on, not making a lick of sense.
“Pinky! What are you talking about?” But I already have a sinking feeling I know where this is going.
“Killer claimed you as his old lady weeks ago.” The words tumble out of her mouth so fast I almost miss them. “To the club, I mean. It’s official.”
The room suddenly feels too small, the air too thick. “Weeks ago? When exactly?”
“I don’t know the exact date,” she hedges. “But before you guys moved into the house for sure.”
My mind races back, replaying conversations, looks exchanged between Killer and some of the other members in his club. Like he was silently reminding them to keep their mouths shut. I brushed it off as him and his constant need to protect me. I shake my head. How could I have been so stupid? He was trying to cover his ass because he had unilaterally made choices about my life without me. I could feel my blood starting to boil.
“Memphis? Are you still there?” Pinky’s voice sounds far away.
“I have to go,” I manage, my throat tight.
“Memphis, wait?—”
I disconnect the call and stare at the wall, trying to process this new information.
He claimed me.
Without telling me.
Withoutaskingme.
After everything I’ve been through—being taken against my will, my choices stripped away—he made this huge decision about my life without my consent.
I hear the front door open and close downstairs, followed by the heavy thud of Killer’s boots on the hardwood floor. I don’t move, still frozen in place on our bed.
“Pet?” his deep voice calls up the stairs. “You up there?”
I swallow hard, my hands curling into fists on my lap. “Yep.” I pop the ‘p’, mad as hell.
His footsteps clunk on the stairs as he makes his way up them.
When he appears in the doorway, his face breaks into a slow smile that used to make my heart flutter.
Now, the sight of him pisses me off.
“There you are,” he says, moving into the room. He bends to press a kiss to my forehead, but I turn my face away. He freezes. “What’s wrong?” he asks carefully.
