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When I didn’t, because I fucking couldn’t, he hissed out a frustrated growl and crouched down in front of me.
Taking my hands in his, he pinned them to my lap, forcing me to meet his gaze.
"You aresafe," he repeated, dark eyes stormy and full of heat. "He will not touch you again. I would never allow it."
Keeping his hands on mine, he curled his fingers around my small wrists, and I knew it was meant as an act of affection.
"But I need you to be quiet now. I need to focus, and I cannot do that with you falling apart," he instructed, thumbs smoothing over the skin covering my pulse. "Be strong, little lamb." He leaned close and pressed his brow to mine. "Trust your wolf to keep you safe." Smoothing my hair back off my face, his tone was soft and coaxing when he said, "Can you do this for me?"
I nodded slowly, keeping my eyes trained on his.
He exhaled a sigh of relief. "Good girl."
"Can I have a bird?" I mumbled, leaning heavily against him, feeling delirious with too many emotions and feelings thrashing around inside of me.
I couldn’t process anymore.
I was weak to the bone.
I was done.
Trig frowned. "What?"
"A bird." Sniffling, I reached up and hooked my arm around his neck. "I miss my bird."
His brows furrowed deeper. "Your bird?"
"Yeah." Sniffling I nodded and let out a shaky breath. "Peter."
"Ashton." Genuine concern flickered in his eyes and he cupped my face between his hands. "You need to snap out of this."
"Jefe," Patrice's voice filled the room, causing Trigger to stiffen and rise to his feet. I turned to see Patrice hurrying towards us, shirt unbuttoned. "Lo siento, jefe, por favor perdoname–"
His words were cut short when Trigger pulled a gun from the waistband of his pants and fired a shot.
A scream tore from my throat and I slapped a hand over my mouth, watching as Patrice staggered backwards from the impact of the bullet as it collided with his flesh.
Unlike Yegor, he didn’t collapse on the floor in a lifeless heap.
Instead, he leaned heavily against the wall at his back and winced as a sea of red seeped through his shirt.
No one moved.
Not one single guard moved to intercept Trigger's gun.
They knew better.
"You shot him," I strangled out, panicked at the blood staining Patrice's arm. "Oh my god, you shot him, Trig!"
"You failed me, brother," Trigger said coldly, keeping his hard gaze locked on Patrice, ignoring me entirely. "Tell me something." He kept his gun aimed at Patrice's chest. "Was fifteen minutes in a whorehouse worth leaving my queen unprotected?" He cocked the hammer again, hand steady and unwavering. "Was your whore a good fuck?" He narrowed his eyes and trained the barrel of the gun at his penis. "Is your pleasure more important than the life ofmy queen?"
Looking ashamed, Patrice bowed his head. "Perdóname, rey. No soy digno."
"Do not look at your feet!" Trigger roared, losing his cool.
Reaching for me, he grabbed my arm and dragged me to my feet.
"Look at her!" Pulling me to his side, he snarled, "I trusted you to keep her safe." He shook his head in disgust. "Fue un error que no volveré a cometer."
