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THEO
“You can go,” I snap over my shoulder as I march deeper into my flat, leaving Alex watching my retreating back. “I don’t need babysitting.”
“That’s not—I’m not—fuck,” he hisses, following me into the living room. “What do you need?”
“What do I need?” I bark out, turning to him and stepping right into his space.
He doesn’t back down, not that I really expected him to. This is Alex, and he’s a dumb motherfucker at times.
“What I fucking need is for you to leave. I need to talk to my dad, and I need some fucking sleep.”
“Liar,” he states, his eyes holding mine steady, just begging me to take a swipe at him.
“Excuse me?” I ask, my brows damn near hitting my hairline.
“You don’t need any of those fucking things. What you need is her.”
He steps so close to me, taunting me, until our noses are almost touching.
“Go on. Lie to me again. Tell me it’s not her.”
“You need to get out of my fucking face, Deimos,” I seethe.
“Or wha—” His question is cut off as all the air rushes from his lungs when my fist collides with his ribs. “Cunt,” he barks out, recovering quickly and coming at me.
With my lack of sleep and the lingering injuries last night left me with, I’m not exactly in top form, and he has me on the floor embarrassingly fast.
My back slams against the wood beneath me, and I struggle to catch my breath.
“Okay, okay,” I concede, holding my hands up in defeat.
“Gonna admit it yet?” he asks, sitting back on his arse and wiping a drop of blood that’s trickling down his chin.
“Fuck off am I admitting anything. Prick.”
“Just call her.”
My response is nothing more than a grunt as I force my body to comply and get to my feet, marching straight toward my kitchen and swiping a bottle of vodka from the cupboard.
“See yourself out, yeah?”
He doesn’t say a word as I make my way down to my room and slam the door behind me.
Twisting the cap off the bottle, I launch it across the room with a roar, although the pathetic ting it makes when it collides with the window does little to settle me.
Lifting the bottle to my lips, I chug the contents until the burn becomes too much and the alcohol begins to warm my belly.
Fuck, I need it.
Anything to get the images of what those cunts might have done to my girl while they had her locked up in that cold fucking cell out of my head.
My blood oozes fury and the desire to go and slit some fucking throats for even considering taking something that belongs to me.
My busted knuckles burn as I shove my hand into my pocket and pull out my phone.
Scrolling through my contacts, I come to a stop on Archer fucking Wolfe.
My thumb hovers over his number, my need for an answer burning through me and forcing any rational thinking right out of my head.
