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EMMIE
Aviolent shiver rips down my spine and brings me to.
My head spins and my stomach turns over as memories from the day before slam into me.
Punching that stupid skank and watching with joy as her nose damn near exploded. Mr. Davenport’s anger. My suspension. Letting Theo fuck me over the desk in one of the classrooms. But that image soon morphs to one with me and Dax on the sofa in the Wolves den.
The acid.
Fuck.
My eyes squeeze together tightly as I remember Theo standing in the doorway with a gun trained on me. The shot firing.
The pain.
“Shit,” I hiss, sitting bolt upright, my eyes flying open. But nothing happens. No light floods my eyes, and I can’t move my hands. “What the—”
“Ah, good. You’re back with us at last, Princess,” a deep voice rumbles from a distance.
My spine straightens and my skin prickles with goosebumps as I focus on the voice, desperately trying to place it.
“W-wha—” I swallow, trying to wet my dry mouth, but it does nothing. Sucking in a calming breath, I try again. “What do you want?” I snap, putting as much venom into my voice as possible.
A low, haunting chuckle comes from the guy who sounds a little closer now.
“Now there’s the million-dollar question right there, Emmie Cirillo.”
Hearing that name, acknowledging that whoever this fuck is knows about my life right now, sends a shock wave straight through me.
I shift, every muscle in my body aching, but I quickly discover that I’m not going anywhere. My hands are bound behind my back.
I wiggle my nose and blink my eyes in the hope of dislodging whatever is around my face, but it’s pointless.
“You’re a disappointment, Emmie. A fucking embarrassment, and a massive disappointment.”
“Fuck you,” I spit out, not giving a single fuck about who he is or his opinions about me.
He’s silent for a moment before a familiar scratch of him rubbing a rough jawline fills the room.
“Unlike your husband, I’m not really into school girls.”
My fingers curl, my nails digging into my palms behind my back, and my teeth grind in frustration as I try to bite back my words about Theo.
I don’t want to show this arsehole that I care.
Hell. I don’t care.
“What do you want?” I hiss, hoping that if I can keep him talking then I might be able to get a sense of who he is or what he wants.
I mean, I have some ideas. But quite frankly, I’m attached to more bad men than I can count.
This could be any of them.
I still as a thought of this being Theo hits me.
He wouldn’t, would he?
But then I remember his face when I walked away from that classroom, the fury in his features as he trained that gun on me in the Wolves den.
