Page 28 of Running on Empty

But his voice faded away as I crawled onto the bed. Not too close, I had no desire to put my knee in his puddle of piss, but near enough that Jonesy could see the shine of the blade in the stray beam of moonlight.

“Stevie… Stevie…” Jonesy breathed my name out in rapid little pants, panicky ones. His eyes remained trained on my hands, my knife, seeming to know that’s where his fate lay.

“When did they approach you?” I asked, my voice deadly still.

“Who—?” I jerked the knife up. “Those rich fucks? Yesterday, before you came in. Rang me and told me to expect the flowers, wanted to make sure you saw them. I thought they were your alphas—”

“No you didn’t.” Ronan snarled that, jerking his arm tighter around Jonesy’s neck. “You knew she was ours.”

“So what the fuck was she doing out with other blokes then?”

Ronan’s eyes flared green at that, his grip suddenly tightening. Jonesy raked his nails over Ronan’s arms, desperate now, fighting for every tiny little breath. But right as it looked like he would choke my boss to death, I ran the tip of the blade lightly across Ronan’s arm, just leaving a white trail behind.

“It is a valid question,” I told Ronan.

His arm pressed harder against Jonesy’s throat for just a second, then he let my boss go, content now to grip Jonesy’s jaw and bare the man’s throat to me.

“One I’ll gladly answer,” Ronan replied, staring into my eyes. “Now, you’ve made a good start, but we need the whole story, don’t we?” He looked down at the other man. “What did those cunts give you to incentivise unlocking the staff area for them?”

Jonesy let out a helpless little laugh, because he knew he was about to damn himself to hell.

“Money. A fucking lot of it and you’ll need to watch out for that. They’re splashing it around, not giving a shit what it costs to get them your girl.”

“And you took it, you fucking piece of shit. Stevie, gimme the knife. This cunt is going down.”

I gave it to him, feeling the loss of the knife’s weight the moment he took it and placed it against my boss’ throat. The blade was sharp, a thin line of red formed the minute he touched it to the other man’s skin, Jonesy letting out a thin whine.

“You can kill me, but it won’t stop them. They’ve got contacts, lots of them and money, so much fucking money. They want Stevie because she’s the one that got away, and they’re not going to stop until they’ve got her.”

Ronan was in control up until that point, even if it might not have seemed like it. But as his eyes bled silver I saw his wolf, feral and savage, push through. He bared his fangs, ready to tear Jonesy’ throat out, have him bleeding out all over the bed, his protests muffled by the spurt of his own blood. So I said the only thing I could think of.

“Don’t.”

“What?” I was the leash being wrapped around wolf-Ronan’s neck, tugging him back like he was a dog. “You heard him. He—”

“Where’s your phone, Jonesy?” I asked.

“There! There!” he pointed frantically to the bedside table, as if sensing his reprieve.

And he’d get it, in a way.

“Let him go,” I told Ronan.

“What? No. Stevie—”

“You’re my knife, right?” I said, staring him down, waiting for the point when my words sunk in and he acknowledged me. He nodded slowly. “So get out of shot, because Jonesy and me, we’re going to shoot a video of our own.”

My ex-boss’hand shook as he unlocked his phone and then he turned on the camera and directed it at himself. I gestured to him. We had already discussed what he needed to say. Jonesy had protested. Of course he had. At first because he felt like he was the victim, not me, but once I made it clear to him how wrong he was, he’d prepared himself for what he was about to say.

“I’m Michael Jones.” His voice wavered slightly, but not much. I’d made clear that if it looked like he was coerced, I’d make him do it again with a knife skewered into his thigh. “I’m the manager… was the manager at the Commercial Hotel. When I was working there I was approached by the Spencer pack about one of my staff members.”

He listed each one of their names clearly and precisely.

“They… drugged and abused one of my staff members and then offered me money to get access to her, to harass her and I took it. They shared video footage of what they did to her with me.” His voice finally broke, as if he was only just now realising the horror of what had happened to me. “That’s revenge porn. I took them into a staff-only area of the pub, intending to lock them in there and let them do what they liked…”

I watched him talk as if it was someone on TV, part of the plot of some ridiculous movie, not my life. When he was done I talked him through where the video needed to be posted and shared. On the pub’s social media, on the local police station’s page, on news sites and on blast on Twitter. He shared it over and over, too many places for the Spencers to step in and take it down, at least at first. I wanted to make clear to the world what those fucks had done to me.

“You just want to leave him here?” Ronan asked me, getting off the bed. “He’s a loose end and we need to tie it off.” He moved in closer, but not too close, seeming to sense the cloud of numbness that now hung over me. “I promised you blood.”

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