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“Stop talking!” Soren snaps, not missing a beat in his search.
Finding no mercy from him, she turns her attention back to me.
“Please, Mickey,” she whispers, and fuck if it doesn’t sound like she’s saying my name for the first time. Like a prayer or a curse.
I don’t answer. Can’t. Instead, I stand guard while Soren does one last sweep of the room. My chest feels tight, my throat dry. I’m wading through a swamp of fear and anger, each step sinking me deeper.
Pregnant…
“Done,” Soren declares, and I nod, swallowing hard. He locks eyes with me, green to silver, and there’s an understanding there that goes beyond words.
The sight of Gail tied to the bed, her blue eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears, is a punch in the gut. I can feel Soren’s presence behind me, solid as the ice we skate on, unforgiving as the boards that ring the rink.
“Please,” she stammers, her voice cracking under the strain. “I won’t say anything, I swear.”
She looks so small, so vulnerable, but I know appearances are deceiving. A woman like her could bring men like us to our knees without even trying—and hasn’t she just?
“Shut up,” Soren snaps, his voice echoing through the room like a slapshot. “You’re a good actress, but it’s not gonna work this time.”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” I add, my own words feeling like gravel in my mouth.
“Please, you don’t understand—” Her plea cuts short as Soren steps forward, looming over her with an intensity that makes even me want to look away.
“What’s to understand?” he scoffs disdainfully, like responding to her is barely worth his time. There’s a dangerous glint in those green eyes of his making each word sound like a challenge no one should accept.
It might be sick, but I like that he’s as angry as I am. It makes my volatile feelings more justified, which I desperately need right now. Because there’s no fucking way I’m allowing the bitch to get under my skin, allowing her words to take root, allowing myself to… no. Just plain fucking no. I’ve gone down this highway before so I know exactly how this story ends.
No way am I letting another bitch under my skin, allowing her to hook me with promises of a family of my own. I have Soren and sometimes Sawyer, that’s all I need.
“You’re nothing but a slut.” The word feels like bile rising up, but I spit it out anyway, watching as it lands, watching her flinch.
“Stop,” she gasps, her chest heaving, but it only fuels the fire burning inside me.
Anger, betrayal, the sting of being made a fool—it all boils over, and I can’t hold it back. “Strip her,” I order, and Soren doesn’t hesitate. With one swift movement, he tears the sheet from her body, leaving her naked and exposed. Her skin is bare to the chill of the room, goosebumps forming instantly.
“Look at you,” Soren sneers, “so useless. All you’re good for is spreading your legs, aren’t you? A dirty whore, that’s what you are.”
Her lips tremble, and she shakes her head, denying the truth we’ve laid as bare as she is. But we see her, all of her—the fear, the defiance, the raw vulnerability. It’s intoxicating, the power we wield, and I hate myself for reveling in it even as I indulge.
“Please,” she whispers once more, her voice barely audible.
“Save it,” Soren growls. “Your apologies mean shit to us.”
I can’t help but agree. Words are cheap, especially coming from someone who’s made a career out of seduction and lies. And yet, as she squirms beneath our gaze, something twinges inside me—a memory, a ghost of tenderness that has no place here.
“Let’s just fucking leave her,” I say abruptly, turning on my heel. I need distance, space to breathe and not be drowned by the conflicting currents of lust and loathing.
“You can’t just—”
“Good idea,” Soren replies, his tone laced with satisfaction as he interrupts her. After freeing her from the cuffs and telling her to stay on the bed like his good whore, he follows me to the door, throwing one last glance at Gail, who’s now reduced to silent sobs.
I tear the door open, walking through it with heavy steps. But before Soren can follow me, Gail’s there. Unashamed by being naked, she pulls on his arm, her expression that of someone who’s possessed and beyond desperate.
“D-don’t leave me h-here.” Despite the tears falling from her eyes, the stuttering of her words, there’s a determination clinging to her that I want to strip away, leaving her reeling just like she’s done to me.
I don’t allow Soren to react, instead, I wrap my fingers around her wrist and squeeze until she lets go. “Don’t!” I roar. “Fucking touch us.”
Something in either my touch, expression, or words renders her mute as she rears back, giving us enough distance to get through the door.
