His gaze turns away from me and onto Alison. “You know better than to mouth off to an old lady, don’t you?”
 
 Alison glares at me, a large red handprint glowing on the side of her face, her heavy makeup smeared under her eyes. “She isn’t an old lady. She’s just some pathetic girl from my high school.”
 
 Twisted steps toward her. “Sheisan old lady. She belongs to Tracker, and one more word from you and you'll be out on your ass.”
 
 She nods silently.
 
 Twisted walks out of the room.
 
 When I look toward the door, Ryder stands there, a shit-eating grin on his face.
 
 “What’s that look for?”
 
 “Just think it's hot to see you bitchslap, someone.” He winks, grabbing me and pulling me to him. “I think you'll fit in here just fine.”
 
 Me, too.