Page 14 of Cries of Cassie

Fuck, she's literally a few doors away.

"Shaaaade," Victor singsongs, and knocks on the door. "I have a request. Well, a few of us do."

Sharing a dark look with Parker, I shutter my feelings and wrench the door open. Parker follows me as I brush past my cousin, only to come to a slow stop when I find a group of his fuckwits harassing Ripley.

"We want to know why he's hiding a whore," Victor says, clapping me on the shoulder. "Is she an old lady? Never knew one of the presidents of the Shadows would grow soft and become possessive."

"You know the rules. Your men don't touch our women," I say, voice devoid of emotion.

Most of our women are huddled in a locked and bolted room, waiting for them to leave. Only a select few who know how to handle these pieces of shit stayed. Thankfully, Victor is usually too distracted by his own club girls and goading me into an argument to ever notice we don't have many around.

"Women? You mean cock sluts," he corrects. "Are you growing soft too, cuz? You protecting Ripper's whore?"

He needs to stop calling my woman names before I lose my shit. I can't tell if he's intentionally goading me, or if he's just being his usual asshole self. One thing is for certain: I can't let him think Cassie means anything to us. Letting Ripley keep her hidden away right now is a bad fucking idea.

"Rip!" I holler and lean against the bar. When he's close, I can see the tension nobody else would notice. He's acting like a possessive wolf ready to protect his mate at any cost. "Who's the girl in your room?"

Refusing to allow any ounce of familiarity out, I keep my tone cold, and he picks up on it. "A hangaround. Found her outside and couldn't pass up the chance to come on her tits. You should see them."

"I'd like to," Victor interjects. Don't clench your jaw.

Ripley turns his soulless eyes on my sorry excuse for a cousin. "She's tied to my bed, waiting for me."

"Trouble in paradise then?" Victor chuckles and elbows me in the ribs. "Always knew you guys liked pussy too. Come on, man, why would you keep a slut to yourself?"

Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Parker can go get her. She bothered me, and I just didn't want to hear her whining anymore." With that, Ripley glides across the room and settles onto the couch with Koa.

"Why do I have to get her?" Parker even tacks on a groan, making Victor chuckle. "If she's annoying, maybe we just keep her tied up or kick her to the curb."

Victor hums a nasty fucking sound and adjusts his cock when he says, "You could gag her. Her mouth isn't necessary unless you really want to fuck it, am I right? I once choked a whore hard enough she wasn't able to talk for a week."

"Where is she now?" I drawl, trying not to sound all that interested. Though I can't help but trail my gaze over the poor women he brought to my place to torture. Was it one of them he hurt so viciously?

I had to break a fucking chair and shout to get them to stop shoving the women around in my clubhouse. Sure, I excused it by being annoyed they were breaking expensive glassware, but I just needed to give the girls some kind of protection. I hate that I can't do more than keep them from being shoved to the ground.

We're almost there. Sometimes the only way I can stay calm is by talking to myself in my head. The number of times I've thought about how I need to keep Cassie safe is aberrant.

Chapter Nine

Cassie

It's not long after Ripper leaves me locked in a room that the latch clicks again. Maybe five minutes. In those five minutes, I've had time to find my cool, calm, and collected self.

So when the door swings open, I try my damndest to rein in my annoyance at being locked away. I shoot for nonchalance and keep my ass firmly on the ground with my arms resting on my bent knees.

Nope, not a care in the world.

"Get up."

Taken by surprise once again, I jolt when I realize the man hovering over me isn't Ripper. Which is incredibly unfortunate because I prepared myself for his quiet intensity, and now I'm faced with another stranger.

My neck spasms with how far I have to tilt it back to see the newcomer. "What's your name?" I ask, stifling the urge to drop my jaw in awe.

This guy is built. His dirty blond hair is slicked back perfectly, but the wolf tattoos and other ink that swirl up his arms and neck steal the respectable vibe from his hair. He stares me down, making my chest clench with uncertainty. Why does he look like he hates me? Have we met before?

"Spider."