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He presses some gauze to my head, making me wince. “I don’t think you’re going to need stitches. How’s your vision? Do you feel nauseous at all?”
“And before you answer, no, we won’t be taking you to the ER. We have a doctor that does house calls and who is loyal to us,” Slade throws in.
I resist cursing him out. Slade makes me forget I’m a pacifist and instead makes me want to embrace my homicidal urges. I stare at him and zone out for a second while I picture myself stabbing him in the eyeball with a fork.
“Astrid?” Jagger’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts.
“I’m fine.”
“And you’d tell us if you weren’t?”
“Not a chance in hell,” I admit, making him sigh.
“I need to clean that”—he points to my hand— “so it doesn’t get infected,” Slade states before moving back to lift the gauze.
I shrug. “If I get an infection and die, it will get me out of your way. Win-win, right?”
He sighs like I’m annoying him and tends to my hand.
I squeeze my eyes closed when he pours some kind of liquid over it. I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood, wondering if the fucking sadist just poured acid over my cut. He pats it dry, applies a thin layer of antibiotic ointment to it, and finishes with a bandage.
“There,” he announces, and I open my eyes. “Keep it covered for tonight, and I’ll take a look at it tomorrow.”
Whatever. I hope the asshole steps on Lego.
“Alright, your head looks good now too,” Jagger says, applying a small bandage to my forehead. “Where else are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. Just take me back to my cell.”
He shakes his head and looks me over, his eyes dropping to my knees. I don’t need to look to know my jeans are torn and my knees are bleeding. I can feel the blood running down my legs.
“Your knees.”
I open my mouth to speak, but Slade jumps in.
“Don’t say you’re fucking fine.” He grits his teeth as I slam my mouth closed.
“You need to take your pants off,” Jagger tells me quietly.
I laugh in his face. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Astrid. You don’t have anything we want. Let him check you out so we can be done with your bullshit,” Slade snarls.
Okay, I admit it. It’s not nice to think that these guys find me so damn unappealing. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a movie, so it’s not the start of some epic romance, but I’d be lying if I said his disgust didn’t sting a little.
“I don’t care, asshole. This is my body, not yours. You have zero say in what I do with it, and that includes me taking off my clothes.”
“Is that so?” Slade replies, his voice taunting.
Suddenly, I’m not feeling quite so sure about myself. Before I can say anything else, Slade tugs me off the island and spins me around, wrapping one arm around my chest and the other around my throat.
His lips press to my ear as Jagger looks at him with a scowl.
“You like making things hard, don’t you?” He presses against me, ensuring I understand his words’ double meaning.
I freeze in his arms, not sure what I should do.
“Slade, come on, man,” Jagger growls, but Slade doesn’t loosen his hold on me.
