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A sob escaped Rory, and he squeezed his eyes shut like he was afraid it was true.
I looked over at Will, his gaze locked on the scene playing out.
But he must’ve sensed me watching because he looked over at me, his expression unwavering but his eyes hard.
Why aren’t they helping him? The only person who seemed to be enjoying the show was Taylor. Was this how Micah got injured? Fighting Aydin?
“They’re never going to let you out,” Aydin told the man under him. “I’m your family now.”
Rory gasped, not looking happy about it, and Aydin shot off him, standing up and walking to the small table at the edge of the pool.
Taking a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue, he poured himself a glass of Scotch and threw it back, everyone watching him.
I thought Taylor said they didn’t have liquor here.
Will walked over, and Aydin set his glass down, telling him, “Just ask.”
But Will just grabbed for the bottle, and Aydin grabbed him, a hand at the back of Will’s neck and the other squeezing his throat.
“Look at me,” he told Will, their noses almost touching.
And then, Aydin’s gaze flashed over to me, a bitter smile playing on his lips and a sinking feeling hit my gut.
He controlled everything.
Shoving Will away, he brought his hand down hard, slapping Will in the face.
“Ask,” he said again.
Will stumbled, his back to me, but after a moment, he rose again, standing tall.
Aydin shook his head, charging up to him and slapping the same side again and again, pushing Will back until he lost his footing, spun around, and dropped to his hands and knees.
Tears filled my eyes, and I stared down at Will as he took a moment to catch his breath, and then he rose back up, facing Aydin and steeling his spine for more.
What the hell was he doing? Will could fight. He wasn’t even trying.
What had happened to him?
Aydin stepped up, nose to nose, and gazed into Will’s eyes. “He’s hurting,” he said to him. “Ask me or beat me, and you can have the whole bottle.”
The bottle. I eyed the Scotch whiskey.
And then to Micah. Rory and Will were trying to get Aydin’s liquor to soothe Micah’s pain.
The muscles in Will’s jaw flexed, and Aydin didn’t wait for his answer. Balling his fist, he reared back, swung, and slammed Will across the jaw, then grabbed his head and brought it down on his knee.
I gasped as blood spurted from Will’s nose and he fell to his knees again. I started to rush toward him, but he shot out his hand, stopping me without a look in my direction.
He sucked in air, eyes squeezed closed as he wiped the blood away from his mouth and knelt there, trying to get his legs under him again.
Finally, shaking, he rose to his feet.
But Aydin just chuckled and walked away, pouring himself another drink.
“I can’t trade with someone who doesn’t play,” he said.
Will stood there bleeding, and I moved a little, trying to catch his eyes.
