Page 135 of 4 Corinthians

“I-I-I-I-I-I-I’m only g-g-g-g-g-going t-t-t-t-t-to ask this o-o-o-o-o-once,” Uri sat forward and smiled. “Who sent you after my s-s-s-s-son?”

Orlando whimpered, and his body shook uncontrollably. He was starting to go into shock, which I think is what Uri wanted. Orlando’s head rolled side to side, and spit ran from his mouth. “I can’t,” he cried.

“You can,” Uri told him. “And you will.”

Orlando shook his head. “No,” he groaned. “I can’t.”

Uri stood; the knife in his hand went right into Orlando’s stomach. He cut from his left to right side, dropped the knife, then stuck his hand into the cut. Orlando screamed as Uri slowly pulled his colon from his abdomen. He let it go, and it hung from Orlando.

“If my hand goes back in, I’m bringing your bladder out,” Uri told him as he patted his face with a bloody hand. “Now answer my question!”

“Logan,” Orlando cried as he coughed up blood. “Logan sent me.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Uri asked him as he patted his cheek again. “Now I know who to kill next. You could’ve saved yourself a lot of pain.”

“He did it to scare you,” Orlando cried. “He knows you will do anything to protect her.”

“And I will,” Uri confirmed with a nod. “Have my entire life.”

“Robert is coming for her again,” Orlando mumbled, then his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Uri walked around him, wrapped his hands around his head, then twisted. The sound of his neck breaking echoed through the room.

***

Uri stood in the shower, water running, his head down, letting the water wash away whatever he was feeling. I sat on the counter, legs crossed, trying to figure out how to get him out of the headspace he’d been in since last night when we left the warehouse. We’d gone back to his house after leaving. I don’t think Uri realized where he’d gone until it was too late. The look of anger and frustration in his eyes was evident; he needed a moment to decompress. He’d had Nine check his entire security system, and they both agreed no one had been in his house. They couldn’t say the same for mine.

I put my chin in my palm and watched him. He was trying to do it himself, but I could see he was struggling. He’d always done it for me without me having to ask, and I knew that I needed to do the same for him.

My phone buzzed on the counter, and I looked over to see a text from Nine; he wanted to talk. He’d heard what Orlando had said before Uri killed him and had a million questions. Sighing, I swiped the screen, then turned back to Uri. I knew that Judah was safe, so Uri’s mental space was my priority; everything else could wait. He shut off the water, opened the door, and I picked up his towel from next to me. He put his hand out, and I shook my head, climbed down, and approached him.

“I’m going to touch you,” I told him. “Not to hurt you or make you feel less than. I’m doing it because I can see you need it. You take care of me without question or hesitation, so let me do the same for you.” His eyes watched my every move. I used the towel to dry him off. I started with his face and made my way down, then went to his back and dried him. When I was finished, I tossed the towel in the sink, picked up the lotion, and applied it to his body. I got another towel from the closet, wrapped it around his waist, took his hand, and led him back to his bedroom. I let go of his hand, went to his drawer, grabbed a pair of basketball shorts and tall socks, and handed them to him. He dropped the towel, pulled on the shorts, and then sat on the edge of the bed to put on his socks. When he was done, he looked up at me. “Come on.”

Uri took my hand, and we walked down to the first floor, through the living room and to the kitchen. I made some sandwiches for us, grabbed some chips and a couple of bottles of water, then took him outside. It was sprinkling, but that wasn’t going to be a problem. In the backyard, near the deck, was a large bubble tent. He’d bought it so that Judah and Deuce could sleep under the stairs without getting eaten up by bugs. Now, I was going to use it for us. I unzipped the tent and walked in. Uri followed behind me. The tent was big enough for a full-size air mattress, an air pump to inflate it, a fan, a small table, and for him to stand without bending.

“You don’t have to talk,” I told him once we were finished setting up everything. The air pump didn’t take long to blow up the bed, and the fan was blowing cool air. I opened one of the water bottles and drank some. “I’m good with sitting in silence, but I want you to know something.” He took a bite of his sandwich and nodded. “You don’t have to go there for me to love you. That mental place that you’re in right now? It’s not necessary.”

“I need to protect you and Judah,” he said, shaking his head. His voice was low, rough, and filled with anger. “I don’t want you to have to see me like that though.”

“I’ve seen you every way possible,” I reminded him. “The good, bad, ugly, and loving.” I wiped my hands, then cupped his jaw. “I’m going to love you despite any of that. Hell, I’m going to love you because I don’t know how not to. No one can stop that, not Robert or Logan. Without us even having to say it, we knew that Robert was going to show his hand.”

“I did,” he nodded, then licked his lips. “I didn’t expect Logan.”

“What do you want to do, Uri?” I asked, letting his face go. “Whatever you want to do, know that I’m going to be with your decision.”

His brow creased, and his eyes narrowed. “We aren’t breaking up,” he told me.

I laughed and rolled my eyes. “When did I say we were breaking up?” I asked him and smiled when he visibly relaxed. “We aren’t about to do that third act break up thing.”

“What the hell is that?” he asked.

“It's something Krude told me about,” I told him. “In books, after all the drama happens, the characters usually break up for a little while. It’s called a third act break up.”

“We ain’t doing that,” he said, shaking his head.

“I didn’t plan on it, so again I’m going to ask. What do you want to do? Go after Robert and Logan hard and fast or plot some shit out?”

“A little bit of both,” he suggested. “I need to talk to Nine, have him start moving shit around for me.”

“Okay.” I took a bite of my sandwich. “Whatever it is you have planned, I’m game.”