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“Well, excuse me.” She narrows her eyes, still ignoring my brooding shadow. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I have three seconds to get rid of her, as I know Thomas will blow her head right off in five.
“Go bother someone else, you fucking brat!” As her eyes widen at my harsh words, I mouth the word, “Run.”
For a nanosecond, I see confusion flutter across her features, but as her eyes flick to Thomas, she gets it.
Giving nothing away, she retorts, “Fuck you!” and shoves past us, storming away.
I let out the breath I was holding and quickly continue walking until we reach the quiet foyer, awaiting further instruction.
“Upstairs,” Thomas hisses, pulling me toward the staircase.
As I ascend each step, I know that whatever I’m walking into will change me forever, but I continue walking. With Thomas breathing down my neck with his rank-smelling breath, I’m actually thankful when we arrive at the study so I can get the hell away from him.
“You ready to face your future?” Thomas chuckles, reaching over my shoulder to open the door.
“Fuck you,” I respond, which is met with a gun barrel being whipped across my temple.
I barely register the pain because as he opens the door, my eyes fall to the slumped, unconscious man tied to a chair, his hair covering his face. Behind him stands Phil, wearing a shit-eating grin when he sees me.
The person tied to the chair isn’t Quinn. It’s someone I keep dragging into my mess.
However, I don’t have time to react because Phil addresses me, making my skin crawl.
“Mia, it’s so lovely to see you. It’s been so long.” He smiles, his arms outstretched for a hug.
“Not long enough,” I bark, blood staining my white dress from my bleeding wound.
“Oh, still the little smart-ass, I see.” He chuckles like this is all a big joke. “How I’ve missed you and your tenacity.”
“Go fuck yourself, you lowlife asshole,” I snarl, proud of myself for not submitting to either him or Thomas.
“Well, look who’s all grown up,” Phil sneers, the smile disappearing off his face.
This is the Phil I know. The evil, sadistic psychopath I’ve known my entire life.
“Maybe you’ll show some respect if I start carving up your boyfriend here.” He yanks the hair of the tied man backward, exposing his beaten, bloodied face.
I gasp, covering my mouth with a trembling hand because the face I see may not be Quinn’s, but it’s Tristan’s. They must have been watching us when we were on the balcony and grabbed him as soon as he left to search for Quinn.
So that leaves one question—where the fuck is Quinn?
Tristan is out cold, and his face has been beaten with enough force that his right eye is incredibly swollen and looks almost closed over.
“She does have feelings, it seems.” Phil snickers while Thomas stands on the other side of Tristan, pointing the barrel at his temple.
“No!” I scream, lunging forward. “No, I’ll do whatever you want. Just leave him alone.”
He’s hurt once again because of me, and I can’t stand for him to pay penance for my crimes a second longer.
“Oh, I like when you beg.” Phil snickers, letting Tristan go and running a hand over his gleaming bald head.
“Whatever you want, I’ll do it. Just let him go,” I plead, refusing to cry as I meet his beady eyes.
“That’s your problem, Mia. You care. You could be something in our world, a queen.”
I flinch because we are worlds apart.
