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Wolf continues to rub Denver’s dick, grinding his knuckles against my pussy with every pass. I’m going to kill him.
“Stop this.” I glare my fury.
He glares right back. “You left me no choice.”
My lungs seize.
Denver’s eyes roll back in his head, his hips kicking into Wolf’s grip.
The needle slips.
A flash of steel.
Denver yelps.
The syringe clatters to the floor, and a crimson slice wells on his cheek.
Wolf shoves him away and stomps on the hypodermic, crushing it.
Denver slowly wipes at the wound, smearing blood. He stares at the red sheen on his hand, lifts his gaze to Wolf, and has the nerve to look hurt.
“That’s for letting me run out of smokes.” Wolf retrieves one of the five plates and offers it to Denver. “I would cut you again for letting us run out of food, but you’ll be starving right along with us. That’ll hurt worse, I think.”
“I won’t let you forget this, Son.”
“You never do, Dad.”
With an oily grin, Denver shovels the food into his mouth with his hand, chewing slowly, smiling wickedly, drawing it out like a fiend. Then he stores the plate in the dishwasher and strolls back to the dark depths of his bedroom.
I release a shuddering, furious breath, bending at the waist as the thud, thud, thud of my heart builds agonizing pressure in my chest. I feel like I’m having a stroke. Definitely hyperventilating.
A solid hand rests on my back, drawing circles. Pissing me off.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I spin away, heaving for air. “You can’t play games with that sick bag of peanuts.”
“Peanuts?”
“He’s nuts, Wolf. Clinically insane.”
“I took care of it, didn’t I?”
I need to get away from him before I say something I’ll regret.
I need to get out of this house.
Rushing past him, I storm toward the front door.
“Where are you going?” He hurries after me.
“What you did just now…” I push through the entryway, grabbing outerwear. “It’s not okay. It’s nowhere in the realm of okay.”
“Come on. I was just having a little fun.”
If looks could kill, he would be flayed.
Where are my shoes?
Crap. They must be upstairs.
I shove my feet into men’s boots, my toes swimming in the depths. Coat, hat, gloves, goggles—every part of me is covered as I open the front door.
A gust of frigid cold spits in my face and howls in my head, Come outside, fragile mortal. Come out, if you dare.
“Make sure I reach the workshop.” Shivering, I scan the snowlit roped path to my destination.
It’s more like a tunnel bordered by waist-high snowbanks. Leo shovels it and keeps the pathway ropes taut between the pillars and the common areas, so we have something to guide us in the high winds.
With Kody still recovering and Denver and Wolf busy with the general house repairs, Leo does most of the heavy lifting and back-breaking outdoor work. I don’t know where he finds the energy for sex. Maybe it’s good he’s taken a week off from me.
I miss him so much it scares me.
So many fears live in me. Fear of Denver. Fear of freezing. Fear of starving. Fear of whatever waits out there in the darkness.
I’m so sick of being scared.
“Once I’m inside, take a plate to Kody, and tell him I’m with Leo.”
I don’t wait for his response as I slog out into the blistery night.
59
Frankie
—
The oversized boots? Not my best decision.
By the time I stomp into the workshop, snow encases my feet. Kicking off the boots and soaked socks, I rush to the coal stove and absorb its heat.
“Fuck.” I don’t want to cry. I didn’t come here for that. I just… “Fuck!”
“What are you doing?” Leo steps away from a workbench stacked with drawings and open books, his expression tired and annoyed. “Without a fucking escort?”
“My escort lost his mind.” My hands tremble violently as I remove snow-drenched layers.
“Which one?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Wolf?” He folds his arms across his chest. “Or the brother you want to fuck?”
My chin quivers, and I turn away. I shouldn’t have come here. If I wanted cruelty, I would’ve stayed in the damn kitchen.
His long legs bring him to my side in an instant. He grips my frostbitten cheeks and drags my face up, scrutinizing my eyes. “What the fuck happened?”
I pull away and gather myself. I don’t need a defender. I certainly don’t want to cause a rift between him and his brothers. Wolf didn’t mean to scare me. He just didn’t think.
“It’s over now.” I pace to the workbench and stare, unseeing, at the drawings. “Can I hang here for a while?”
“No.” Full lips wrap around that hateful response. The rest of him remains stiff, unmoving, coiled for a fight.
There’s an ugly wound inside him, one I put there, and it’s still bleeding, bubbling with anger and directed at me.
“Leo.” I can’t hide the crack in my voice, the constant fear beating me down. “I can’t.”
