“Let’s go.” Raff grabs a fistful of his hair.
He walks Milo through the back lot, steering him between the parked cars. I walk alongside them with my hands in my pockets. The security light throws long shadows across the gravel, and the air smells like dirt, rusted metal, and cut grass.
Milo starts crying again.
"Are you going to kill me?" His voice comes out small and wet.
"I want to rip your fucking throat out.” I keep my voice completely even. "But my omega asked me not to."
Raff makes a sound beside me that says he has feelings about that, but is keeping them to himself.
"Then what are you—" He stops, swallowing hard. "What are you going to do to me?"
I don't answer. I make my way to the old beater at the far end of the lot.
There’s rust along the wheel wells, a cracked windshield, and the driver's side door has been ripped clean off the hinges. I reach inside and pop the trunk.
It opens with a groan.
Milo‘s eyes go wide, and his body locks up.
Raff's fist tightens in his hair and walks him forward.
"No." Milo's feet drag against the gravel. "No, no, no. Please. Please, you said?—"
"Get in," I say.
"You promised El?—"
"I promised her I wouldn'ttouchyou," I say. "Get. In."
Milo looks at the trunk. Then at me. Then at Raff. His eyes are wild and darting, and his whole body is shaking.I watch his mind turn over, desperately trying to figure out how to get out of this, but there’s no escape.
“Go!” Raff shoves him forward.
Milo grabs the lip of the trunk with both hands, his knuckles white. "Please." His voice has dropped to almost nothing. "Please don't let me starve in here. Please!"
"You're not going to starve," I say with a quick laugh.
But Milo doesn't believe me. I can see it in his face, the way his eyes keep moving, still looking for the exit that isn't there.
"You didn't even tie me up," he says, holding up his hands, looking at his own wrists like he's surprised. "Why didn't you tie me up?"
I look at him for a second.
Junkies are so fucking stupid.
Raff lets out a sharp laugh, beside me, agreeing, as he turns and walks away across the lot, shaking his head.
"Do you want to be tied up?" I say as I turn back to Milo.
His face crumples, and he starts to cry again. "No."
"Do you want to starve to death?" I ask even louder.
"No."
"Then get the fuck in, and think about what you did."
