“What?” Calli gasps, her entire body going rigid as she lowers her arse to the closed toilet beside us.
“It’s not like it sounds,” I mutter after taking a sip of the chocolatey goodness she gifted me with.
“He shot the guy who’d just made me come.”
“Oh, because that makes it sound better,” she scoffs.
“It was his shoulder. He should be fine, I think.”
“You think? Calli asks, looking concerned for someone she’s never met.
“Cal, could you do me a favour?”
“Of course,” she agrees. “Anything.”
“Could you message Theo? Just find out if he’s okay.”
Her whole face softens at my request.
“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” she says, rushing to pull her phone from her jeans pocket. “But… don’t you think you should do it yourself?”
“Something tells me he wouldn’t respond even if I did,” I confess, trying to keep down the lump that threatens to crawl up my throat.
Both of them look at me with sympathetic expressions.
“I deserve it. I’ve hurt him just as much as he has me.”
“I’m not sure that’s true, Em,” Stella says sadly.
I think back to the look on his face as he stood staring at me with Dax. Right up until that moment, I thought everything was a lie.
But even while I was tripping, I saw the second of hurt, of pain that flickered through his eyes as he watched me fall apart under the hands of another man.
He cares. In that moment, it was blatantly obvious.
But then his anger, his training, his dark, depraved self resurfaced and took matters into his own hands.
I’m not prepared for the sob that rips from my throat as I continue to run those few moments through my mind.
“Shit,” Calli hisses, rushing to my side, and she takes the mug from my grasp, slipping her hand into mine instead. The three of us connected, both of them doing their very best to stop me from drowning.
“I’m sure he’s fine, Em. Theo is made of steel. This will barely cause a dent,” she says confidently, but it does little to eradicate that image of his devastation as he watched me fall.
“Y-yeah, I’m sure you’re right,” I force out.
“I know he’s a prick,” Calli says after a few silent minutes where only my ragged breathing can be heard. “But he does care about you, Em.”
“We’re a disaster,” I blurt out.
“So are Stella and Seb, but it’s not stopped them.”
“Hey,” Stella argues but quickly starts laughing in agreement.
They both squeeze my hand in support.
“I really thought you’d be telling me to run as fast as I could.”
Calli’s eyes hold mine, sadness filling them. “We can’t help who we fall for, Em. You just need to decide if he’s worth it.”
“I think there are bigger issues right now than whether Theo is worthy of me.”
She nods. “All of this will blow over.”
“Blow over. I’ve got three of the most powerful criminal organisations fighting around me. How is that ever going to blow over?”
A sad smile tugs at her lips. “The losers will die, the winners will reign supreme. It’s how it works.”
“So the Wolves are fucked then, is that what you’re saying?” I can’t help feeling for Archer, Dax, and the other friends I had who are connected to that world.
I wouldn’t wish this war on them.
Well, most of them.
“If they deserve it.”
“I think today might point toward the fact that they do.”
“Some of them. Not everyone is a bad egg, Em. You just need to find the rotten ones and eradicate them.”
“You’re sounding more like a mafia princess every day, Cal.”
She just shrugs. “It’s either that or I stay as naïve as they’ve tried to keep me and go through life not really understanding.”
“You’ve made the right choice.”
She sits back on her heels, her eyes flicking over my face. “So, are you going to scoot up and let me join you two or what?”
“Girly three-way in the bath. Oh, if only the boys could see us now,” Stella quips, making me laugh in a way I never thought I would again only a few hours ago.
8
THEO
“You can go,” I snap over my shoulder as I march deeper into my flat, leaving Alex watching my retreating back. “I don’t need babysitting.”
“That’s not—I’m not—fuck,” he hisses, following me into the living room. “What do you need?”
“What do I need?” I bark out, turning to him and stepping right into his space.
He doesn’t back down, not that I really expected him to. This is Alex, and he’s a dumb motherfucker at times.
“What I fucking need is for you to leave. I need to talk to my dad, and I need some fucking sleep.”
“Liar,” he states, his eyes holding mine steady, just begging me to take a swipe at him.
“Excuse me?” I ask, my brows damn near hitting my hairline.
“You don’t need any of those fucking things. What you need is her.”
He steps so close to me, taunting me, until our noses are almost touching.
“Go on. Lie to me again. Tell me it’s not her.”
“You need to get out of my fucking face, Deimos,” I seethe.
“Or wha—” His question is cut off as all the air rushes from his lungs when my fist collides with his ribs. “Cunt,” he barks out, recovering quickly and coming at me.
With my lack of sleep and the lingering injuries last night left me with, I’m not exactly in top form, and he has me on the floor embarrassingly fast.
My back slams against the wood beneath me, and I struggle to catch my breath.
“Okay, okay,” I concede, holding my hands up in defeat.
“Gonna admit it yet?” he asks, sitting back on his arse and wiping a drop of blood that’s trickling down his chin.
“Fuck off am I admitting anything. Prick.”
“Just call her.”
My response is nothing more than a grunt as I force my body to comply and get to my feet, marching straight toward my kitchen and swiping a bottle of vodka from the cupboard.
“See yourself out, yeah?”
He doesn’t say a word as I make my way down to my room and slam the door behind me.
Twisting the cap off the bottle, I launch it across the room with a roar, although the pathetic ting it makes when it collides with the window does little to settle me.
Lifting the bottle to my lips, I chug the contents until the burn becomes too much and the alcohol begins to warm my belly.
Fuck, I need it.
Anything to get the images of what those cunts might have done to my girl while they had her locked up in that cold fucking cell out of my head.
My blood oozes fury and the desire to go and slit some fucking throats for even considering taking something that belongs to me.
My busted knuckles burn as I shove my hand into my pocket and pull out my phone.
Scrolling through my contacts, I come to a stop on Archer fucking Wolfe.