Thirty-Three
Vesper
This was going to be a disaster.
Tension radiated through the entire clubhouse. It was palpable, the pulse felt in the room. I volunteered to wake Rory and have her meet everyone in the war room—a place we only used to plan attacks on our enemies. The last time we gathered here was when Axel killed Diesel.
I knocked on Rory’s door, but figuring she was still asleep, slowly opened the door.
She was sprawled out in bed with only a tank top on, a blanket barely covering her legs.
There were hickeys and bruises on her pale skin.
My jaw tensed enough to ache, and my chest felt crowded as if something ugly coiled in my chest. I wanted to paint my own marks on her skin, but she wasn’t mine to love.
Even if we both wanted it. I pushed the immoral thoughts to myself as I sat on the edge of her bed.
“Mariposa,” I whispered, shaking her arm. “I need you to wake up, babe.”
“No,” she grunted, turning away from me.
I grabbed her arm and pushed her on her back.
“Come on, gorgeous.” I hovered my face over her, and of course the little minx took that as an invitation to wrap her arms around my neck and steal a kiss from my lips.
Should've known she would try something like that on me, but she caught me by surprise, which was why I leaned into the kiss without thinking.
Or so I tried to convince myself. When I pulled back, she was smirking up at me. Devious.
“A kiss to wake up your mariposa,” she said with a husky, sleep-filled voice. I had just gotten played. “Now, why are you in my room at the asscrack of dawn, if it isn’t to make out with me or fuck me?”
“You got a dirty mouth on you, mariposa.”
“Wouldn't you like to know.”
“Come on, get dressed. We gotta talk. Cin and Widow are waiting for us in the war room.”
She kicked the rest of the blankets off her and stood up. I got a better view of the marks left on her body, and most of them were fading and older. She looked like she had had one hell of a night. Not that I was jealous or anything.
Rory smirked at me as she stood up and walked to her closet. What a little tease. It was hard to stay away from her, but I knew what Cinder would do. I’d rather have her in my life, tormenting me, than not having her at all. Right now, I needed her to focus instead of messing around though.
She looked at me and frowned. “Am I getting punished or something? You aren’t acting like yourself. Are you okay?”
“I need you to get dressed, mariposa.”
She grabbed a pair of her black armored leggings and a pink crop top. “What did I do?” Her voice cracked slightly, and I could see panic wash over her face. She was on the verge of a panic attack.
“Rory, it’s okay. You’re not in trouble. I need you to breathe.”
“What is it, Vesper?”
I extended my hand to her in offering. She needed to see it with her own eyes.
Cinder could kick my ass later, but if Rory needed my comfort, she would get it.
I wouldn’t let her deal with this alone.
We walked side by side as we entered the war room and Cinder watched me cautiously. She could get over it.
“What’s wrong?” Rory asked, folding her arms across her chest.
She looked between her sister and Widow, neither of them saying a thing which just made the tension worse.
“Just show her,” Widow exhaled. Cinder transferred everything from my phone to hers, and took additional pictures from the storage container. We made sure it was spotless before we left. We didn’t want anyone else to see Rory like that.
Cinder handed Rory her phone, which she took, eyeing us cautiously before she started to swipe.
Rory’s hand grabbed my wrist as she started to tremble.
She leaned into me, her breathing more erratic the more she scrolled.
I wanted to rip the phone from her hand and just hold her, but then she stepped away and let the phone crash to the floor.
“N-no.” Her voice cracked as she slowly backed away from us. “H-he’s dead. I-I don’t believe you.”
“Rory…” Cinder soothed, stepping closer to her.
Rory stumbled back. “NO!” she screamed.
“Mariposa, I need you to breathe.”
“Phoenix, look at us,” Widow added, and that got her attention. Something about that nickname calmed Rory. I didn’t know the full story with the meaning, but it always soothed her when she was in a state of panic.
“Just talk to us, Rory,” Cinder said, stepping closer to her.
Rory shook her head. “No. I don’t want to remember. It’s not my fault!” Her response caught me off guard, but then I remembered it stemmed from the sad excuse of a doctor who blamed Rory for her abuse.
“Phoenix, it’s okay,” Widow soothed. “Breathe. No one is blaming you. We want to protect you.”
“No. I can take care of myself.” She jumped up and stormed out of the clubhouse, leaving us dumbfounded. Widow grabbed Cin before she did something she’d regret.
“Let me go, Widow,” Cin argued, but Widow’s grip was strong enough to hold her.
Widow kept a firm grip on Cinder’s waist, even though Cinder looked lethal. “No. Give her time. You just told her the boogeyman was back. She needs to take a breather.”