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23
WRYN
I’m sitting in the library after my tense and steamy argument with Connor, still stewing in my anger at what he did to Francesca. I have to focus on it because if I don’t, I think about other things, like fucking him, and I don’t want to do that right now.
What kind of monster turns a young girl out on her own, knowing what she will face when she goes back home?
A black-hearted one. One with no morals. He might preach that he wanted his father gone and the rest of the bosses dethroned in the name of revenge for Ruby, but I think maybe he wants it all for himself.
I’m waiting on him to come home, so I can tell him what a piece of shit I think he is.
I hear the side door close to the kitchen open, and I’m out of my chair, my book abandoned in a second flat. I swing around the doorway, out into the hall, and head toward the kitchen.
I stop short when I see Geo. He’s holding on to the wall, a hand wrapped around his stomach as he supports himself. His breathing is labored, and he’s pale with beads of sweat on his forehead and upper lip. Brigette comes out to see what all the fuss is about.
“Oh my God,” I say, rushing forward.
I pull his free arm over my shoulder, taking his weight, and walk with him into the kitchen. Brigette pulls a chair out at the table, and I help him sit. Then, I stare down at him.
“Where is Connor?” I ask.
He doesn’t look at me as he shakes his head. My chest clenches, and my mind instantly turns to the worst-case scenario.
“Where is Connor?” I ask again, my voice rising with hysteria.
Geo grunts, trying to move and situate himself in the chair. Blood seeps from between his fingers.
“Let me take a look at that,” Brigette says, bustling back over with a bowl of warm water and some towels.
She pulls his fingers off of his waist, and I watch in horror as more blood flows out. It’s stained his shirt with a bloom that looks like a bouquet of roses. His jacket is gone. My eyes trace the two-gun holster that is strapped around his shoulder. A gun is still inserted in one side, but the other side is empty.
Brigette unbuttons his shirt and pulls it to the side, unable to take it completely off because of the holster. She dabs the wound with some water, looking at it. He’s only been nicked, a clean mark that doesn’t even have an entry hole. It looks more like it sliced through his skin.
“It needs to be stitched,” Brigette says.
I take a step back, sinking into another chair.
“I’ll—call—Peterson,” Geo says between labored breaths. His face scrunches in pain.
“I’ll do it. Hold this here,” Brigette says, taking my hand and placing it on the towels she’s pressed to his side to stanch the flow.
“Who is Peterson?” I ask.
Geo finally looks at me. “Doctor,” he says.
“Where is Connor?” I ask again, holding his gaze.
He shakes his head.
“I don’t know what that means, Geo. Is he dead?”
“No.” Geo coughs and then grimaces again, almost doubling over. “Ah fuck. He—he’s alive. Gone.”
“Gone? What does that mean?”
“Took him—with them. Paul, William—and Lucas.”
I glance at the door as a noise catches my attention. Fernando is standing there, taking in the scene. He has purple, yellow, and green bruises on his face, and he’s in casual clothes. Not the usual suit I’ve seen him in that seems to be like a uniform around here.
