Page 56 of Something like Love

“But you decide to lead with your emotions, a sure downfall because you leave people like your little boyfriend here an open target for people like me to use for my gain. Pathetic.” He scoffs, curling his lip at me in disgust.

Tristan groans, and I bite my lip, scared of what’ll happen next. Scared of what happens when he becomes a witness to all this fucked-up shit.

I know Phil, and he doesn’t like witnesses who could potentially bring down his empire. He’ll dispose of Tristan as easily as he did Hank, and I can’t allow that to happen—not again.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” I yell, angrily wiping the trickle of blood from my eyes. “Because whatever it is, this game is growing old, and I’m done playing.”

I hope to come across as self-confident even though I’m shaking in fear.

“You’re an impatient little thing. But you’re right. I’m tired of this cat-and-mouse game. A game you were bound to lose. You see, you cost me a lot of money when you ran. And you know how I hate to lose money,” he scolds, waving his finger at me.

“So as I see it, you’re indebted to me. And you’re no good to me dead…so it’s time to pay up.”

I must have misheard him because he’s surely not implying I go back to working for him like nothing happened, is he? If he is, then I’m just as good as dead.

“You’re out of your fucking mind!” I shout, taking a step forward, about ready to beat the confident smile off his reptilian face.

My father, however, instantly stops my tirade when he pulls back Tristan’s head, exposing his neck at a painful angle, the gun still pressed to his temple.

Freezing, I retreat and raise my hands in surrender, my eyes meeting Tristan’s, who is wide awake. He looks dejected and desperate as he mouths, “I’m sorry.”

I shake my head, giving him a weak smile because he has nothing to be sorry for.

“No. There’s no way I’m doing that. I can’t,” I add, hating how weak I sound.

“Oh, stop being so melodramatic,” Phil says playfully. “You’ll go back to being my number one girl, and for the moment, we’ll forget the idea of you spreading your legs.”

Tristan’s eyes widen at my horrible truth, and I don’t blame him. It’s an awful reality, and sadly, it’s mine.

“For the moment?” I ask, wiping my eyes, refusing to allow my tears to break free.

“Yes,” he replies with a smile. “See? I’m a reasonable guy. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to throw another tantrum and shoot your daddy again.”

Tantrum? Is he serious? This isn’t some little issue I’m rebelling against. It was my life—my humanity.

But I can’t go back to that.

Whether I’m a drug dealer or a whore, it all leads to my ultimate demise. My soul slips away with each deal I make.

“No,” I spit one final time, shaking my head.

“Is that your final answer?” Phil asks, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he leans back against the oak desk.

“Yes,” I reply with finality, my eyes flicking to Tristan, who concurs with my decision.

“Kill him,” Phil says casually to my father, who cocks the trigger.

“No!” I scream, diving for Tristan, but Phil pulls a gun from his waistband and points it straight at me.

“You move, and you’re both dead.”

The tears I’ve been trying so hard to keep away fall, and I openly weep, so afraid for Tristan’s life.

What choice do I have?

None.

I can’t allow them to hurt Tristan. And that’s what will happen if I say no again.

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