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King stands up and throws the stool to the corner of the cell, making me flinch, and stalks towards us. In one swift movement, he bends down and hooks his arms under my legs and back, lifting me over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold and wrenching me away from Puck. I kick and scream at him, but it makes no difference. King’s holding me so tight, there’s no way I can break free.
“Puck! PUCK!” I scream out for him, hoping he won’t let King take me.
“T, I’ve got you!” he replies and holds his pinkie finger up, and I can’t help it, but the tears flow.
In all the months since King left me in his bathroom, I haven’t let myself cry once. But the dam has burst and the tidal wave has broken through.
I kick and cry and punch and cry, Puck getting blurrier and further away with every second.
“I’ve got you, T!” Puck shouts one last time before I can no longer see him. And I give up kicking and punching and screaming. I just drop my head and let the silent tears take over, soaking the back of King’s suit.
17
KING
Theo slouches in the chair,her gorgeous figure now small and fragile. It could be the dim lighting of the interrogation room, but her skin is pale and gloomy, her eyes have lost their sparkle, and her cheeks are stained with fresh tears that continue to fall silently.
Fuck, carrying her away from Puck like that was torture. I knew she’d be pissed to see me, but I didn’t expect that. Her punches came hard and fast to my back, her screams so loud in my ear, I was ready to drop her and never touch her again.
“Theo.” I break the silence, clearing my throat. I stayed away this long because she was a weakness and a distraction I didn’t need. I won’t let it go back to that.
Theo continues to look at the floor, her shoulders hunched forward, her arms limp, and I can see the tears dropping onto the floor by her feet.
I soften my tone and crouch in front of her, gently lifting her chin up with my fingers.
Her eyes lock on mine, and a powerful emotion washes over me as I stare back into her watery eyes, full of sadness.
“Theo,” I almost whisper, flattening my hand on her cheek.
She flinches away from my touch and within seconds, she spits at me, pure disgust coating her almost unrecognisable face. I recoil from her retaliation and wipe her spit off my cheek with my sleeve.
She doesn’t back down, her eyes burning a hole straight through me. I stand and look at her from above, reminding her who’s in charge here.
Theo starts to stand, but my hand pushes down on her shoulder, forcing her back into the chair.
“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!” Theo screams, slapping my hand away and falling to the floor. She buries her head in her hands and sobs again.
I’m way out of my depth here. I have no idea how to handle her. How am I supposed to get any information out of her if she reacts like this every time I talk to her or touch her?
Fuck this. I’m in charge here and I’m done pussyfooting around her because of her mood swings.
“Sit in the fucking chair, Theodora, or so help me God, I will sit you in it myself,” I warn, hoping the threat of touching her will be enough to get her to listen to me.
She scoffs, but as I take a step closer, she scurries to her feet and sits back in the chair, bringing her knees up and hugging them to her chest as her feet dangle off the edge of the chair.
“Do you get off on this?” she spits at me.
“Excuse me?” I question.
“This sick game you play. You hate me, you want me, you want to fuck me, you fucking hate me again. You leave, you come back. What the fuck is with you? How long till you're back next time, huh?”
Theo drops her legs and is on the verge of standing again, so I take another step closer.
“If your ass leaves that seat again, Theo, I will cuff you to it.”
There’s a challenge in her eyes, but I know she won’t act on it, not after the way she reacted to my touch before.
“Do you get off on that too, huh?”
