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“Misha!”
Jesus Christ.
“I thought I told you to stay in bed,” I snap without looking.
“And I thought you’d know by now that I’m not some trained dog,” she snaps right back. I turn with a sigh. She’s standing in her hospital gown, using her IV pole as a walking stick. “Just let him go, Misha. He’s not worth it.”
Anthony is whimpering like a baby, and I’m so tempted to shut him up for good.
“Misha!” Paige interjects as though she knows exactly what I’m thinking. “You’ve made your point. You’re the alpha. He can’t beat you. Now, let him go. Please.”
I want nothing less than to end this snotty, pathetic excuse for a man. And yet, despite the war cry emanating from every single bone in my body, despite the bloodlust burning its way through my veins… I find myself releasing the dipshit.
He stumbles back and hits the nurse’s station desk. It’s the only thing keeping him upright.
He gingerly pokes his nose and winces. Then he spits blood on the floor.
“You have ten seconds to get the fuck out of here before I change my mind and hunt you down like the rat you are,” I tell him.
Anthony’s gaze drifts towards Paige, but I shift between them. “If your eyes land on her again, I’ll rip them out. Do you understand me?”
He nods like a scared child. When I pump-fake towards him, he flinches and then scrambles towards the exit. The doors flap and swallow him up. Silence follows.
As soon as he’s gone, I turn to Paige. “Get back to your room. Now.”
She frowns in defiance, but I can tell just this little outing has exhausted her. She turns slowly and shuffles back into her hospital room.
I follow her in as she settles into the bed. “You’ve met Anthony before,” she accuses, tucking the blanket around her legs.
My jaw clenches. “I paid him a visit. I told him to stay away from you. A lesson he should’ve taken to heart.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she demands.
“Why didn’t you tell me that he accosted you the day you were having lunch with Nikita?” I retort.
Her eyes go wide as she realizes that I know. “Nikita told you?”
“She assumed that you had already told me. Which you should have.”
“I was going to,” she says earnestly. But I can detect a note of defensiveness in her tone. “But then you were being a jerk, so I didn’t. Then enough time went by, and Anthony looked like he was going to listen to me and stay away. I figured I didn’t need to tell you.”
“What a tidy little explanation.”
Her eyes bulge with anger. “Are you implying that I’m lying to you?”
“Well, the two of you did look awfully cozy when I walked in.”
“He took my hand and wouldn’t let go,” she hisses. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I have to defend myself. If you think I still have something going on with my ex, then you’re out of your mind.”
“He told you he wants you back, didn’t he?”
“Yes, and I told him that it was over between us.”
“And he got the message loud and clear,” I drawl sarcastically.
She looks completely taken back by my accusations. Her face is screwed up, maybe with defiance, maybe with fear. But I don’t care enough to suss out the difference, because I’m riding high on anger now. I can’t seem to talk myself down.
She should have just let me punch the lights out of that fucker. At least then I’d have a little less thirst for vengeance coursing through my body, the dirtiest fuel there is.
