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He must have seen the conviction on my face because suddenly The Society’s Military Strategist was scrambling backwards, attempting to flee from little oldme. I bore down on him with a swiftness that came from hours of practice, The Warden honing my skills for his use, and I brought the syringe down into his stomach. I didn’t even need to tear through his shirt because as he scrambled backwards, so the material rose up, offering me a sliver of his stomach. He hissed at the impact, his body jerking before me, and I was forced to push my own body weight against him to keep him still as the effects of the insulin kicked in, but even with the drug pumping through his system, he was so much stronger than I was, bucking wildly beneath me. He slammed his hand against my face, catching the corner of my right eye, and for a minute I was seeing stars, but then finally -finally- his body slumped backwards, his legs twitching beneath. I didn’t waste any time as I seared his forehead with The Warden’s seal. There would be no mistaking this for what it was - they wouldn’t be able to brush the death of Paul Mae under the rug,this was an act of war, and I was simply a tool used to deliver the message.
I stood up on shaking legs as I stepped away from Paul, praying that it would be a good while before someone found him. Did he have any lessons today? Fuck, I didn’t know. I needed to get back to Mack before he came looking for me. I may have kicked Paul before I stepped away from him fully, but the dead could hardly complain about such pettiness.
My dark hoodie covered me until I was safely indoors, pressed against the bodies in the coffee shop. The place was so packed that the girl behind the counter hardly gave me the time of day as she handed me my order, and it was only when I was in the elevator that the adrenaline that had fueled me seemed to subside, pain quickly replacing it. The right side of my face throbbed, and I had been injured enough times to know that the fucker had left a bruise.
By the time I stepped into our suite, my exhale rattled through my chest, and I realized that this small apartment was a place of safety for me. Which was ludicrous because it still belonged to The Society, but I knew that it had nothing to do with who owned it and everything to do with who stayed here.
Mack popped his head out, taking in my appearance, the four strawberry coffees balancing in my hands. He stepped forward almost immediately, relieving me of my purchase, and that was when he stopped, his gaze tracking my face. I knew that it was bruised and probably swollen, but I hadn't yet looked in the mirror to determine the damage. Mack’s gaze hardened on mine, and there was no hiding from the question in his eyes.
“You should see the other guy.” I shrugged off his concern, throwing the same words back at him that he had spoken to me when I had looked upon him with concern. I liked Mack, but I also was never going to be anything other than what I was. And this thing we had going was temporary, so it was in everyone’s best interest if he simply left it alone.
His jaw tensed, and I wondered if this was going to be where he lashed out - where he demanded answers that I couldn’t give. His hand felt warm against mine as he led me into the kitchen, and wordlessly, I followed. His palms pressed against my waist, and for a moment, the thought of getting lost in Mack - of having his skin pressed against mine, seemed like the solution to all my problems. But, surprisingly, that wasn’t what Mack wanted. He wasn’t bending me over the kitchen counter to have his way with me, instead, he boosted me onto the counter, his fingertips light and gentle as he inspected the swollen area next to my eye. An ice pack was pressed against my face, and I fought the urge to hiss - to jerk away, because he wastaking care of me.
Tears sprung up in my eyes, and I fought them away as my chest seemed to cave open for this man. I couldn’t fall in love with him - not over an ice pack of all things - not ever. Because Mack and I were nothing but temporary.
Chapter Twenty-Two : Collared and Cuffed
Mack
“Loveyou,Ma.”Ihung up the phone knowing full well that it was probably the last time I’d speak to her. How was I supposed to tell them that The Society had issued me with a death sentence of a different sort? I couldn’t because if I uttered one word to Da, then he would reign down hell upon them, and I knew - without them even having to threaten it - that it would be Patrick they took out first. He was who I rallied around and protected.
Still, I had to think that not all was lost - that while I was there, an opportunity would present itself - one that didn’t get me killed, and if it didn’t magically appear, then I would make the opportunity myself. If I was going down, then it wasn’t going to be without a fight.
It was the perfect fucking cover, actually, because once I was done and gone-for, The Society could plead ignorance without ever having had to get their hands dirty with my death. The Cartel would do it all for them.
The Cartel didn’t hate my family without cause, my uncle had fucked them over dead a couple of years back, teaching the Mexicans that we were only loyal to ourselves, and while behind closed doors I would rage about our honor code, in public we were nothing but a united front. In truth, it was only a matter of time before they took one of us out in retaliation - I was under no illusions that ‘mistakes’ happened on jobs all the time, I just didn’t think The Society would serve me up to them on a silver fucking platter.
I dressed on autopilot, donning the monkey suit that The Society had picked out for me because it wasn’t enough that they were sending me to my death, they also insisted on dictating what I wore to my sentence. It was a good fucking thing I looked good in tux. I forced myself to turn away from the mirror, refusing to look upon myself because I knew it wouldn’t bemethat I was looking at - themethat grew up with holes in his pants from the amount of home runs I skidded into; themethat preferred a cheeseburger over silver-plated dishes and golden spoons, themethat sat in the theater every free Sunday night I had, watching reruns of horror classics. But standing here on Society soil, I was so far away from the kid I once was. Of course, that wasn’t always The Society’s doing - Da had taken me under his wing, had brought me into our family’s operations when I was a teenager. None of those memories and facts solved my dilemma - the problem of my impending death. And what the fuck was I supposed to do with Marissa. It was one thing offering me up, but sending Marissa to slaughter was un-fucking-acceptable.
I needed to speak to her - to warn her - to tell hersomething. Because if she was planning to run, then now was the time to do it. I lifted my mattress, prying a loose piece of wood from the base of the furniture itself before finally digging out the gun that Da made me bring with me. Completely untraceable. Because while I was forced to play their fucking game, I wouldn’t do it unarmed, and even if the Juarez’s took me out, if I was going down, I’d take as many of them as I could with me. I just needed Marissa to be safe.
With my gun pressed against my waist, my tuxedo jacket covering it perfectly, I slid on the diamond cufflinks, completing The Society’s outfit. On this I wouldn’t fight them - the Juarez family was well known for its fondness of jewels.
I stepped into Marissa’s room to find her clothed, but her dress left nothing to the imagination, and the thought of their gazes on her tonight made me want to slit fucking throats. The dress was black and almost sheer, diamonds seemingly embedded in the material. The material defied gravity, clinging to her breasts with nothing but two thin straps that looked as if they might snap at any moment. The back was low, highlighting the muscles that I knew by heart - that I had traced with my tongue each time I slid into her while she was on all fours. Cleavage spilled out the top, and when she finally turned to look at me, I noticed the slit that ran so high up her thigh, I was almost certain that she wasn’t wearing panties.
She was sex on legs - nothing more than arm candy, and while I wanted to shred the material from her body and claim her against the goddamn wall, I was pissed that The Society would even send her out like this. Because this was an offering, and it wasn’t even subtle.Kill me and they could have her. My fists clenched, my heart pumped faster, and for the first time in a long time, I struggled to contain the rage that lived inside of me.
But then I saw her face - watched the way her expression seemed to tighten - her throat bobbing with pure panic. Did she know what this was? Understand the ramifications? I stepped towards her to offer.. what? Comfort? I was a dead man walking, how the fuck was I supposed to comfort her? Even if I did manage to take some of them down with me, I knew that there was no walking out of there alive. Her gaze didn’t meet mine - didn’t even waver from the item she was looking down at, and it only struck me then that whatever she was staring at was what got her spooked. Staring at her looking all dressed up as if she was something from a dream, it was easy to forget that she wasn’t simply a Society girl - that the vicious part of her that lurked beneath the surface called out to my own monsters. She hadn’t once flinched at the knowledge that they were sending us into a Cartel event, in fact, she had offered me comfort and strength, binding her hand in mine as we walked out of that fucking library showing a united front.
Her actions made me want tokeepher, to claim her in a way that rippled far beyond these walls. If I survived tonight, I might just do that.
I followed her gaze, resting my eyes upon a beautiful glittering band made entirely of diamonds - a choker of sorts - a collar.
I didn’t know why, but Marissa didn’t want to wear it - the panic seeping from her pores, rippling down her body until her hands quivered in fear. It didn’t take a stretch of the imagination to know that this was The Society’s doing - that they were responsible for this crack in her armor. And even if I was a doomed man, I couldn’t accept seeing her like this. I stepped into her, pressing my body into her warmth, and as her gaze finally lifted to mine, I saw the anguish within them and hated these bastards even more. But I didn’t show her that - not when she needed me in this moment, so instead, I tilted her head up gently, dipped my head down, and brought my lips to her neck, kissing and sucking along her flesh until her quivers of terror turned into shivers of desire. She moaned as I licked and bit along the sensitive part of her collar bone, marking up her neck with our own collar of passion. Her hands rested on my shoulders, gripping tightly as the waves of desire built inside of her. The taste of her skin on my lips sent a zing of heat straight to my balls, and suddenly I was the one who was groaning - feeding off of her need. The smell of that sweet lemon was crippling, for I was no longer a man who was unsure of what waters he entered, Iknewwhat she tasted like - knew how to swallow down her moans. I could write sonnets about the way her pussy clenched and pulsed against my cock.
This was pure fucking torture because what started out as a way to revolt against them - to empower Marissa in this moment, had quickly turned into both of us panting with need, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d be grinding against her dress through my tux like a high school kid on prom night.
I tore my lips from her skin, holding onto the sliver of sanity that still remained, only to find her lust hazed expression staring back at me. My gaze dipped lower, taking in my handwork, purple and red splotches bloomed across her neck as a ring of hickeys began to show themselves.
“No amount of diamonds are going to cover that.” My throat was hoarse with desire, and as the ghost of a smile crested her lips, I knew that it was the right thing. Because we would play within the framework of their rules, but that didn’t mean that they shouldn’t expect our own brand of rebellion in return. I motioned for her to turn around, facing the large mirror that took up one side of her cupboard as I slid the cool diamonds across her throat, and although the collar was wide, my marks were wider still, meaning the diamonds did absolutely nothing to hide the fact that she was a woman well loved.
A woman well loved?
Fuck that. I wasn’t a sentimental man, and I was certain that Ididn’tlove her, but Icould. It was almost laughable at how The Society had paired me with someone that was inadvertently perfect for me, but that was only because they didn’t know who she was.
Neither do you, dumbass.My own mental berating only served to remind me that I didn’t know Marissa’s story, and while I hadn't cared a couple of weeks ago, the more I spent time with her, the more I wanted to know her. I wanted to know everything about her. I wanted to consume her - claim her - own her in all the ways that mattered.
I stared at her in the mirror, watching her perfect lips part as a little bit of breath seemed to escape her while I clipped the collar onto the back of her neck.
