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“Dahlia, what the fuck?”
I blink up at the ceiling fan. “Uh, hi, Billie. Did you see my note? Or get my text?”Probably too busy getting high to notice,I think to myself sourly.
“About leaving?” She cries down the line, “Yeah, but when are you coming back?”
I roll my eyes. I’m pretty sure my note was clear. Honestly, don’t do weed, kids. It turns your brain into mush.
“I’m not, Billie. Something came up and I had to leave.”
“Okay. Did the scary guy with the tattoos who turned up at my work today have anything to do with that?”
The blood rushes from my head, making the room spin faster than the fan. “A man came to see you at the office?” I choke out, heart pounding. “What did he want?”
“You, Dahlia,” she spits. “Wanted to know where you were.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“What your note said. That you’d gone away.”
I’m struggling to catch my breath. “D-Did he hurt you?”
“No.” A hiss of relief escapes me. “But he said he’ll hurtyou.”
“Oh god,” I garble, sitting upright and shoving my head between my legs. I was always car sick as a kid, and this was the only thing that stopped me from throwing up. “Oh god, oh god.”
“Yeah, I don’t think God can help you now. Seriously, what thefuckDahlia? You were always so mysterious but I thought you were just a little weird, I didn’t think you were like, actually a criminal—”
“What else did he say?” I cut her off, curling my fingers around the bedsheets. I don’t need to hear Billie’s personal opinion of me, especially not right now.
“Um, he said if I manage to get hold of you, to let you know that you have one week to pay up.” She lowers her voice, “Is he a loan shark? Because that’s illegal now, you know? You don’t have to run away; you can just report it to the police.”
I’d laugh if terror didn’t have its icy hand around my throat. “Listen to me Billie, okay? You need to get out of the apartment for a little while. Move into Hendrix’s apartment or something for a bit—”
“As if,” she whines. “My internship pays minimum wage, I can barely get together rent at this place, let alone somewhere else—”
“Okay, well you won’t be able to pay rent anywhere if you’re dead,” I snap back.
The line falls silent. I draw in a deep breath, dragging a hand through my hair. “No, I’m sorry. That was crude. I’m sure you’ll be fine, but uh, if I was you, I wouldn’t take the risk.”
“Whoishe?!”
My deep breath comes out of my nostrils in a long hiss. “I don’t know,” I reply truthfully.
And I really don’t. I know he’s a dodgy guy with a lot of dirty money. I know he vacations in Panama and owns a string of businesses, including that creepy Room 101 club. I know he’s like a goddamn pit bull, once he sinks his teeth into you, he doesn’t let you go.
“Look, Billie, I’m not coming back,” I say firmly over the backdrop of her whimpering. “And if he comes back around, then you tell him that.”
She lets out a long, drama-school groan. “Fuck you, Dahlia. Honestly. You’re so damn selfish.”
I bite back my retort—the one that mentions how she and her boyfriend were selfish assholes for the entire year I lived there—and simply hit the red button.
Billie was part of yetanotherpast life. I’m moving into a new one.
Hopefully, Cillian will do better on his promise than Lucky did.
Cillian
My mark is curled up in a ball in the corner of his penthouse suite, hands pulling his head into his lap, and trembling like a kicked puppy.
