I just got better at ignoring it. And by the time lunch hour came around—no food for me because of aforementioned clawing sensation inside—the swelling and redness on my face had gone away, so I grabbed my bag and keys, and headed into town, telling myself it was better to get this over with sooner rather than later. I was sure Andres had told Peter and the others by then. Dealing with their raging and jeering was best dealt with as soon as possible. The office almost felt foreign when I opened the door and moved inside.Save for, of course, the fact that none of the guys had cleaned up a damn thing while I’d been gone. Garbage cans overflowed, coffee cups collected on every available surface, and there was a mountain of paperwork piled on my desk for some reason. Punishment, maybe? Trying to push down a grumble, I moved to my desk putting my bag in the drawer, and starting to go through the paperwork. Which all seemed like shit that the guys had taken out or created, and hadn’t

I’d like to claim it was about my snake. And, yeah, that was probably a part of it. But it was more than that. It was her. It was the way I couldn’t fucking stop thinking bout her. If that wasn’t enough, there was also Val. He was actively grieving the loss of his new friend. He cried at the door to be let out. I let him out, and he’d go cry at her door. When he wouldn’t stop, I’d open that one, and he would rush inside, nose to the ground, searching for her high and low. With no luck, he climbed up onto her spot on the bed, let out a defeated sigh, and refused to leave. I didn’t dare strip the bed and wash the sheets. I was pretty sure the dog would die of heartache not to have her scent around at least. So, yeah, I got her exhaustion. I was feeling it in my bones. It was more than that I saw in that pretty face of hers, though. Before she tamped it down, I saw a mix of shock, hurt, and anger. The surprise and the anger, I got that. Walking away from her and kicking her

“Okay,” I agreed. I expected to wait. I mean, this was a hospital, after all. The last time I’d been in one, I’d waited four hours in the waiting room, then spent another seven total hours in the back before I finally got to go home. Somehow, though, within twenty minutes of going in the back, I had my blood drawn, and then I was being wheeled into the elevator, and down to the CT machine for both my head and my spleen. I was pretty sure I slipped in and out of consciousness then, kind of confirming the suspicions the doctor had about the concussion. I should have been pulsing with adrenaline and anger and an acute thirst for revenge. When I was wheeled back to the emergency room, an IV was hooked up, making me squint at it. “Just fluids,” the nurse told me, giving me an overly friendly smile. Granted, doctors and nurses were often nice when you had been injured and in need of care. But they were being the kind of nice you only saw when someone’s boss was looking over their sh

The grip bars around the toilet, in the shower. The sign about hand washing. But there were also the luxury elements. Like the fact that the shower was a walk-in stall with white and gray marble walls and a black floor. And the fact that the little travel-sized soaps and shampoos were salon and boutique brands. “Great,” I grumbled, looking at my face in the mirror. It could have been worse, for sure, but there was a bruise on my forehead, and another couple on my chin and jaw. The butterfly sutures were a little caked in blood, but at least that wound looked pretty superficial. The scar wouldn’t be too bad. The bruises around my throat, though, those were rough. Thick purple and blue bands from side to side. If you looked closely enough, you could see small spots where his fingers hadn’t pressed in, little strips of skin-colored flesh peeking through all the darker shades. Reaching back, I carefully worked the ties of my gown loose, pulling it off as much as I could with the stu

Everyone I cared about in the entire fucking world would be safe. While I went out and handled this shit once and for all. I understood what this would take from me. Snatching up my men from their beds, dragging them to another undisclosed location of mine. This one far away from anyone who would hear the screams. Then, one by one, put the pressure on them until they started to sing. It went without saying that anyone who’d aligned themself with Peter was going to get a bullet to the head for their betrayal. But what I was really after was more names. And once I had all the names, I wanted a location. For Peter. Who had to know I was coming. After the argument with Naomi in the room, I was feeling particularly ready to get my fists into someone’s face, ribs, guts. To feel their blood sliding down my hands. So that was what I set out to do, knowing Hope was safe. Especially with Vi sitting by her side. All of Naomi’s cousins were capable, trained in self-defense, but it was