Page 22 of Nobody Wants Me
Her father may be Harris Harris, but I wasn’t a total moron.I knew she was nothing like her father.Running fingers through my hair, I moved toward my office window.Ivan sat behind my desk.
We had already killed five assassins from The Grid.I think what was worse, they were not just coming for Freya to kill her, or even to sell her.She was going to be torn apart.
“I believe Freya saw the whole thing,” The Butcher said.
“How exactly did he get into the house?”I asked.
The Butcher looked at me.“Like I said, your alarms didn’t go off.The security cameras were turned off.Now, you trust every person who works here, right?”The Butcher asked.
I did.
“Because unless you had some convenient electrical fault, someone turned them off,” The Butcher said.“And that means you’ve got a rat from the inside.”
“There is a chance of that,” Ivan said.
He hadn’t said a lot.
“Is Freya okay?”Ivan asked.
I had yet to ask that.
“Last time I checked she was in her sewing room.Her bathroom was covered in blood, and some of it leaked into her room.She didn’t scream or anything.”The Butcher shrugged.
“You should go to her,” Ivan said.
I thought he was talking to The Butcher, however, his gaze was on me.“Why me?”
“She’syourwife.”
“I’m not a woman.Tell The Butcher to go see her.”
“She just watched me murder a man.I don’t think I’m the one she is going to want to see.”
I was not about to tell them she wouldn’t want to see me in her sewing space, seeing as I had destroyed the gift she made for me.I was not going to tell them.It was none of their business, and now Freya knew I didn’t want a fucking gift.
Ivan was not budging, and the truth was, I needed to go and see that she was okay for myself.And so, I left my office and made my way toward the stairs.
Freya had every right to hate me.In that moment, I replayed the look on her face as I tossed the damn remnants of the quilt in her face.I had been so angry at her for even trying to make me something.I didn’t want to care about this woman, but it would seem I didn’t have a fucking choice.
Making my way up to her sewing room, I glanced toward her main bedroom.The Butcher would know we didn’t share a room.Not that it came as a shock to anyone.Stepping into her room, I checked to see there was indeed a lot of blood.The Butcher was not exactly known for being clean.She had made a big mess.This annoyed me, but there was nothing I could do because the alternative was to watch Freya die.
I turned off the light and then stepped toward her sewing room.She spent a lot of time in this room, and I couldn’t help but think of all the time she must have spent getting that quilt together.I didn’t need shit from her.
This was my house, so I didn’t bother knocking, and I just stepped into her room.She wasn’t at her desk, and I quickly looked to find her in front of her fabric stand.Several of the bottom rows of fabric had been removed, and she was currently folding them.
I stood in the doorway and looked at her.Her long brown hair was pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck.
“What’s wrong?”she asked.
“How are you doing?”
“Oh, fine, why?”She frowned as she turned to look at me.“You mean, because I watched The Butcher kill someone, and you’re wondering how I’m doing?”
“It’s a lot to take in for someone.”
“But I guess it’s not a lot for the Volkov Bratva, right?”she asked.
She had been thrown into the deep end.Of that, I had no doubt.There was nowhere for her to run or hide.She was now involved.If she so much as stepped out of line, Ivan would kill her.Those were the rules.
