AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Declan stands at the foot of her bed, his hands fisting the frame with so much force that his knuckles are white. He grits his teeth and snarls before loosening his vise grip. Staring at her, he growls, “You’re the most stubborn fucking woman I’ve ever met, Quinn O’Brien. Not once in your life have you backed down from what you wanted. You want to fucking live. Be a stubborn fucking bitch.”
He storms from the room, and I place Quinn’s hand back on the bed. “You fucking heard him.”
I’m about to follow Declan when the doctor enters the room. He confirms what I already knew. What we all already knew.
Exiting her hospital room, I find Declan leaning against the opposing wall of the hallway. Before I have a chance to say a word, he pushes from the wall and hisses, “I’m fine.”
Fine.
Apparently, that’s fucking synonymous with ‘on the verge of losing your ever-loving shit.’
“We should have had someone watching her, Tris.” Declan stews in his seat as we drive back to the club.
“They couldn’t have known.” I try to comfort him… And myself. “They can’t possibly know how close we were as kids. To them, she was just a barmaid. Someone they could use to send a message.”
“Well, they fucking got one too,” he snarks.
“And they’re going to get more,” I reassure him.
“They’re going to get more right fucking now. Pull the fucking car over.”
I should’ve known better than to drive past Kiska on our way back to the club.
Coming to a stop in the parking lot, I shift into park and pull my phone from my trousers.
Quinn is in rough shape.
But Declan is worse.
Stopping at Kiska so he can relieve some frustration.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
LAYLA
“Your friend. How is she?” I ask when Liam pulls his phone from his pants.
It dings a few times, and he shakes his head as he reads over the messages. He types out one of his own and hits send before responding, “Still alive, but not good.”
“I’m sorry.” I fidget with the strands of the flogger in my hand before hanging it back on the hook before me.
“Nothing for you to be sorry about. Now, what do you want to know?”
My eyes span the room, and I exhale, “Everything.”
“Come on.” He lures me to a section of the wall covered with paddles. Wood. Leather. Studded like a dog collar. Spiked. All of them so vastly different.
“And people actually like this?” I ask as I run my fingers over the needle-sharp tines of the paddle.
“Plenty of them,” he chuckles.
I mull over his response.
“Have you never been paddled before?”
“No.”
“Spanked?” Liam asks, his face immediately displaying genuine disbelief when I shake my head.
