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“What do you mean it ain't Riley?” My brother stands up from the couch he’s slumped on and makes his way over. He takes the toothpick out of his mouth as he stares the girl over, his eyes growing wider when they land on the dainty little hand she’s got wrapped in mine.
“He means… that Riley wasn’t at the auction,” Maddy tries to explain calmly.
“So ya hooked yourself up with a little something for yourself, did ya?” Squealer’s joking the way he always does, but now ain’t the fuckin’ time for it, and I snarl at him for being disrespectful to the girl.
“He’s kinda touchy about that,” Maddy warns my brother awkwardly.
“So what the fuck went down?” Nyx is next to try playing fucking detective, stepping up from the pillar he’s resting his shoulder on.
“Riley wasn’t at the auction, and Screwy decided to bid on this girl.” Maddy does her best to put it to them optimistically, but she’s failing. Ain’t no way to polish up the huge shit that I’ve just landed on everyone.
“Then when he lost out, he decided to go full destruct mode, kill a couple of Verretti's men, and whatever guy bought her so he could take her, anyway,” Jessie takes over the story a little less enthusiastically.
“And where were you guys when all this happened?” Brax asks, looking more disappointed about missing out on the action.
“Oh, us?” Jess responds sarcastically. “We were sitting watching helplessly on a screen from the cage parked half a mile away. Only just got there in time to stop his body from becoming a fucking sieve.”
“You sound kinda pissed, Jess,” Brax points out, moving from behind his old lady, Grace, to stub out his smoke in the ashtray on the bar.
“Yeah, well, I think anyone who just had to drive their old lady through a carnival of fucking bullets would be a little pissed too.” Slamming his beer on the table, he takes off, heading out the doors to hopefully cool off.
Making my VP this angry ain’t something I’m proud of, but gut instinct was never gonna let me leave this girl behind.
I look down at the girl standing beside me, my chest tightening when I think about how she must be feeling. All this is too much for her. All these people, not knowing where she is or how she’s gonna get home. What she needs is reassurance, a reassurance that I don’t know how to fucking give her.
The conversation restarts around us. Prez is assuring everyone the money is still secure and that Maddy has done all she can to prevent Verretti from getting an ID on me. I’m not buying it though. I killed five men tonight. Verretti ain’t the kind of man to let something like that go unpunished.
Prez is getting hit with questions from every angle. But I blank all the voices and focus on the girl who’s staring at the floor, looking like she’s guilty of something. I don’t know if it’s out of fear or because it’s been trained into her, but it makes me mad, almost as mad as seeing that thing locked around her neck.
“Get it off her.” My words come out croaky and weak, and no one fucking hears them.
“Get it the fuck off her!” I yell out over the commotion, my eyes focusing on Rogue. Suddenly the room silences, everyone stops their mouths from running, and all eyes focus on me. No one looks more shocked than my brother, and even Rogue, for once in her life, is fucking speechless. She drags herself from Grimm's lap, approaching me slowly and staring at me like I’m about to pull the pin on a fucking grenade.
“Get that fucking collar off her!” I make myself more clear, I’d do it my-fuckin’-self, but my hands are too fuckin’ big to pick the lock.
“Sure,” Rogue speaks softly, softer than I’ve ever heard her, and I feel every eyeball in the fucking room watching me.
“I need a word with my brother,” Squeal pushes himself through the little crowd that’s formed around us, tilting his head towards the door before he storms out of it. I follow him, keeping the girl with me, and not just because I don’t want to leave her alone with everyone, but because the grip she has on my hand is burning through my skin, and I like the way it fucking feels.
“What the fuck were you thinking, Screw?” Squealer spins around when we’re in the foyer. I look at the girl and how she cowers at my brother. She fears him, so why doesn't she fear me? It makes no sense. We look exactly the same, but my brother smiles. He cracks wise jokes and makes other people smile too.
I never smile. Ain’t had a reason to since Beth died. For the past fifteen years, Squealer’s been the only person I spoke to, and that's only because he refused to give up on me.
‘Psychogenic Mutism’ is the name the shrink at the asylum gave it, but Squealer wasn't having none of it. He kept speaking to me every hour of every day until I finally answered him back. Since then, I speak, but only to him.
How can she be scared of him and not me?
The girl must sense my confusion because she’s looking up at me expectantly, and it dawns on me that I don't even know her name.
“Screw. Speak to me. There’s a lot of pissed-off people in that room, and I’m rapidly becoming one of them,” Squeal rants.
“Get the damn collar off her, Squeal!” I hiss the words through my teeth. I don't want to fight my brother, but if someone doesn't get that fucking thing from around her throat, I’m gonna start smashing things. I can feel the anger bubbling under my skin, my heart thumping out of control when my mind goes back to seeing her on the floor; the sick cunt who paid for her, dragging her by a chain.
“Let’s see what we’re working with here.” All three of us turn our heads toward the voice that bursts through the doors and into the foyer. Rogue steps closer, and the girl jumps out of her skin when Rogue roughly takes the collar and assesses the lock on the back.
I want to toss her away for making her scared, but I breathe through the frustration, reminding myself that I need her to help. I’ll be able to focus better when the girl is free.
“Standard. Should only take a few seconds,” Rogue bends down, pulling a bobby pin from her boot.
