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Rubbing our noses together, I kiss him softly. “I'll hold you to that later.” I move my hand between us to squeeze his cock. He groans and his lips part only inches from mine. It's too tempting not to wet them with my tongue. “See you tomorrow, Ferny.” Releasing my fingers from my new favorite possession, I step back and open the door. “I'll be sleeping at home today, otherwise you'll be waking up to me riding your face, and I definitely won't be able to keep quiet with your tongue in my ass.” I leave him standing in the room alone, speechless, and I laugh to myself as I walk closer to the club’s pounding music.
On my way out of the establishment, I spot Phillip with his back pressed against the wall, smoking a cigarette. “On your way out?” he asks, puffing smoke from between his lips.
“Si. You know those things will kill you,” I say, my gaze darting toward the cancer stick hanging between his fingers.
Shrugging, he takes another puff before smashing the cigarette between his shoe and the sidewalk. “Better nicotine than the cartel.”
I laugh and step closer to the curb as I watch my car pull around the building. “I can't argue with you there. Either way, you're only biding your time before the inevitable.”
He steps forward and leans into me. “I won't tell anyone, just so you know.”
Arching a brow, I crane my neck to meet his eyes. “What do you mean?”
Nibbling on his bottom lip, he rocks back and forth on his heels. “Nothing. Looks like your ride is here.” He nudges his head toward the car in front of us.
My stomach knots as I slowly make my way to the car, fighting the urge to question him more. He saw how Fernando and I looked at each other, and it was definitely growing harder to hide the tension resting between us whenever we were in the same room for too long. Sliding in the back seat, I signal my driver to hold on and roll down the window. “Have a good rest of your day, Phillip, and remember nothing is all you'll ever know. Good luck tomorrow, and hopefully there won't be any more unfortunate incidents in your future.”
His face pales and I roll up the window while tapping the seat in front of me. “You can drive now.”
“To your father's house or your place?” Ricardo asks, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.
“My place,por favor. It's been way too long since I've been home.”
“You got it, boss.” He pulls onto the road, heading toward my apartment, and I glance down at my phone when it vibrates in my lap. Smiling, I trace over each word on the screen.
Ferny: Even though I can see it for myself on my phone, I'd still like you to message me as soon as you safely arrive at home.
Me: Don't worry, I'll even send proof of life once I'm inside.
Slipping my phone into my pocket, I glance out the window, taking in the outside view. The sun is already fading by the time we reach my complex. Ricardo pulls up in the front to let me out and waits for me to get inside before driving off to park the car. A shiny object has me pausing in front of my door. As I bend over to have a better look, my heart races in my chest and a twisting sensation enters my stomach.
It's a hatchet. Not just any hatchet either, but the one my sister used to slowly remove my hand from my body, and it's still covered in my blood. My stomach recoils as I stretch my arm out to lift it from the ground. I do my best to hide it under my jacket when Ricardo rolls down the window. “Everything okay?”
“Uh yeah. Must have dropped something when I came by earlier,” I lie. I got a ride with Tyson to the club and Ricardo doesn't know everywhere we went today. He won't question it any further either. His only job is to ensure I stay alive, not pry in my business or push me for the truth.
With a sharp nod, he rolls the window up and I enter my apartment. Closing the door behind me, I lock it and place the hatchet on the counter. My eyes focus on it for too long. Running my fingers over the dried blood and rust, my eyes shut.
My sister's loud voice enters my head and I can't rid myself of the image of her anger-filled eyes.
Her expression is hard and cold as she walks toward me, holding something with a wooden handle in her hand. I can't make out what it is until she lifts it in the air and the silver tip of a hatchet faces me. “He always loved you more. You were his beloved son and I was his burden.”
She's wrong. His love for us was definitely different but the amount was the same. My dad wasn't how you'd expect a parent to be. He was never warm or showed much affection, but how could he when he didn't experience any of it growing up. In his eyes, what he expressed toward us was love he never got from his own parents.
He's kept us safe from everyone, including himself. His mom left when he was small and his father locked him up and punished him for any mistake he made in the sickest ways. His father killed anyone my dad tried to love on his own and the first harm he experienced came from his own family. So in his eyes, he was doing the best he could with us. We were given way more freedom than he ever was.
“Whatever you think you'll gain from this, you're wrong,” I say, my eyes struggling to hold focus due to the drugs coursing through my veins.
“The only one who is wrong is you. You will be nothing but merchandise by the time I'm done and I'll have everything I've ever wanted,” she says through clenched teeth.
“You won't live long enough to enjoy any of it.”
Walking closer, she traces the rope around one of my wrists, making me realize I'm tied to metal pipes on the outside of the wall. Barely having any feeling in my limbs made it hard to tell before and my head is still too much of a fuzzy mess for me to move it.
“Time to get Daddy dearest where I need him to be. No better way than to mail him pieces of his little protégé.”
Before I can say anything, I clamp my teeth down on my bottom lip and draw blood as she takes a swing at my wrist. The sharp edge only cuts a little beneath the surface the first time and my hand begins to separate from the rest of me as more blows of the small ax break through my bone. Suddenly I feel fucking everything.
A loud knock at the door has my eyes snapping open. Rushing toward the front of my apartment, I check the peephole and Ricardo is standing on the other side. Groaning in frustration, I pull open the door.
