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I toss the clamp and his tongue to the side and grab the towel Rogue hands me, using it to clean my bloody hands.
“We need to cauterize the wound if you want to live. Do you want to live?”
He moans weakly in response, his body slumped over.
“Say a word of this to anyone and I’ll see to it that your family is destroyed. After I take my time cutting you to pieces that is. I hope this little chat has made you realize that I will see these threats through if you ever cross me again. Nod if you understand.”
He nods, the move almost imperceptible.
“Good.” I say, turning to grab the cauterizer from Devlin. I bring it against the remaining stump of his tongue and burn his flesh, the smell filling the room.
It’s a life saving measure and another opportunity to cause this piece of shit pain.
He passes out again but this time I don’t need him resuscitated.
“I’ll drop him off near a hospital.” Rogue says, working to untie him.
“Thanks.” I tell him, before asking as if nothing happened, “Everything okay with Bellamy?”
“Yeah, it will be. Don’t worry about it.”
“How’d it go with Thayer?” Phoenix asks.
My mouth flattens in a grim line as I face him. “I’m going to win her back.”
He claps me on the shoulder in a comforting gesture and turns to clean up the mess we’ve made.
The feelings that’d been temporarily pushed aside by my single minded focus on dealing with Devlin and the associated adrenaline come slowly trickling back into my mind.
There’s an almost physical urge to go to her, to spend time with her, but I can’t.
I don’t know how I’m going to survive this time apart.
It’s been barely a day and I feel completely lost without her, adrift with no sense of what to do with myself.
With revenge out of the way, I’m going to focus on doing everything in my power to get her back.
???
38
Thayer
True to his word, Rhys is back the next day.
And the next.
And the one after that.
He comes every day for a week, sometimes waiting for me on the steps of my building as I come back from class or practice, sometimes knocking on the door when he knows I’m home.
Instead of flowers and chocolates, he brings me cool ranch Doritos — my favorite — and a Megan Rapinoe signed jersey.
He buys me a Christmas ornament of a Chicago flag and returns to the market in Geneva to buy me a matching one of the soccer ball I gave him.
“Hello, love,” he says with a cute smile, before asking me the question he asks every day, “Are you ready to forgive me yet?”
“No.” I answer.
