30. Con
Con
There’s no word for what I’m feeling. Rage doesn’t cover it. Not when my vision is white-hot, and my jaw aches from clenching too hard to keep from saying something I can’t take back.
The worst part is, I don’t even know why I’m so fucking pissed off.
Actually, that’s a lie.
I know why I’m pissed off. It’s because, for the first time, I didn’t see it coming.
If any of the other girls we’ve ever brought up here did this shit, I wouldn’t be surprised.
We’d take care of it. Because that’s what we do.
We’d buy her off, or deal with the low-rent mob and send a message saying that the Titans are not to be fucked with .
But it wasn’t some random girl that did this. It was Phoenix.
I didn’t think she had it in her to do something so fucking devious.
Though now that I think about it, I don’t know why I didn’t put this together sooner. I found the fucking papers in her goddamn room, and I was just so hard up for her, I didn’t put two and two together.
Of course, I knew she was up to some shit.
But Jesus Christ—spying on us for the fucking mob?
Today was just batshit fucking crazy. Every time I look up, it gets fucking weirder.
Phoenix has more tears running down her face, silently shaking in fear as she watches all of us. She just asked what we were going to do with her? I have no idea. What the fuck can we do with her?
Does she think we’re going to kill her?
Of course she thinks we’re going to kill her. She thinks we’ve been killing staff left and right—but only the ones that we fuck.
Does she think Maverick gets so rough that he just bludgeons women to death with his dick ?
Or does she think Storm actually cuts them, chops them up into little pieces like the serial killer he pretends to be, and then we use them to chum the waters when we’re out on our fucking yacht?
Maybe if I had known about this earlier, we would’ve just written her off as another disappointment. But we can’t do that now—because we’re all in too deep with her.
I want to go to her and strangle her. Or comfort her. Both options are tempting.
I don’t even remember when I started needing her. When I stopped seeing her as a mark and started counting how often she looked at me instead of them. But I fucking noticed. And now I hate her for it.
Wonders of all wonders, it’s actually Storm who gets up and pulls her into his arms and holds her, giving her the comfort I’m not strong enough to give.
It’s the psychopath with his fucking arms around my girl, telling her it’s going to be okay, that we’re not going to fucking hurt her .
He shouldn’t make promises I have no intention of keeping.
When I figure out what the fuck to do about this, she’s getting punished.
Not with ropes or rules. Not with anything she'd expect. I want her sobbing my name, begging for forgiveness with her mouth full of regret—and me.
I will not be kind, and I will not be gentle. I am going to come up with shit that will have even Atticus and his twisted fucking games in awe.
There’s so much rage and adrenaline coursing through my veins.
I need to get up.
I need to move.
But Maverick will not take his fucking hands off my shoulders. He’s literally pinning me in this goddamn chair, and I’m allowing it—because I don’t know what will happen if I stand up.
Before I can say anything else, Atticus comes into the room again with his laptop and his phone still pressed to his ear .
“Okay, thank you. Yes, please let me know. Of course—your discretion will be rewarded.”
“Who the fuck was that?” I bark as Atticus disconnects the line.
“I’ve called all the hospitals. They’re keeping an eye out for the two men Storm sliced and diced.
They’ll let us know if either of them shows up to the ER.
If that’s the case, then we can address it when it happens.
I don’t think the larger one—the one who just needs stitches—will show up, but the other one might.
Depends on how deep Storm’s knife went.”
“I honestly don’t know, man,” Storm says, still holding Phoenix in his arms like she’s some innocent little girl that needs to be protected. Does our Little Red Riding Hood not realize she’s literally in the arms of the big bad fucking wolf?
She shifts slightly in his arms, like she knows he won’t drop her—even when the rest of us might. And I fucking hate how he gets to be the one she leans on. I want her to flinch from me, fear me. But I also want her to crawl to me when she breaks.
She’s curled into him like she’s weightless—bare feet tucked under her, cheek against his chest, hair falling like a veil that keeps me out.
Storm’s arms are caged around her, and the fucker looks calm.
Like she belongs there. Like he’s earned the right to hold her after what she did.
Her hand fists in the fabric of his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping her anchored.
And maybe it is. Maybe she trusts him now. Trusts him.
Not me.
My jaw locks. I should be the one she looks to. The one she leans on when the world starts breaking apart. But she chose him. And watching her tremble in his arms while my own hands shake with the need to tear her away from him—that’s what unravels me.
“Okay, I don’t know who these two work for, and that bothers me. I’ve gone through some of the text messages in the group chats between employees?—”
“What?” Maverick and I ask at the same time.
“There are a few group chats among the maids, the dealers, the waitresses, etc. I hack into them every so often just to make sure no one’s bragging about stealing or any shit like that. It’s mostly just Maverick’s dick pics. ”
“Any good ones?” Maverick asks, and we all ignore him.
“So, Phoenix is right. There are rumors that we have something to do with the girls going missing—mostly because a lot of the staff just quits without telling anyone, and they’re never heard from again.
A few of them even went to go check on the girls, and they’re just gone, their apartments ransacked. It looks like they left town.”
“What the fuck?” Maverick asks. “How have there not been any police reports about that?”
“I’m trying to figure that out now.”
“How about why they think we’re the ones doing it?”
“Because most of the women missing are girls, and they go missing the day after they’ve been with one of us.”
“Fuck,” Maverick says, and he takes his hands off my shoulders for just a minute. I consider standing up, but I just don’t have the strength.
“What do we think is actually happening? ”
“I don’t know,” Atticus says, a line forming between his brows. Out of all of us, he’s the one who’s always demanded to know all things at all times. He could never handle just not knowing something.
“What do we know?” Maverick asks.
“I have more questions than answers,” Atticus admits, rubbing his temples.
“I want to know who’s pulling the fucking strings.
What exactly is happening to this staff?
Who the real target is. There’s no reason any mob—low-rent or not—should be coming after us.
We don’t have the keys to the kingdom yet.
It has to be something with our parents. ”
“Obviously,” Maverick says, giving Atticus a bored look.
“Then there’s the other thing,” I say, glaring at Phoenix, who is curled up on Storm’s lap like a fucking cat with her head on his shoulder. “What the fuck do we do with our little traitor?”
“I think she needs to be punished,” Atticus says with a shrug.
Of course that’s what he would want. Fucking sadist .
“I understand why she’s here now. I understand why she did what she did. But she needs to be punished for lying to us for so long.”
“She had plenty of opportunities to come clean,” Maverick agrees. “But we need to consider why she didn’t.”
Look at Mav, the voice of reason. My knuckles crack. I don’t need my friends’ approval. I want Phoenix on her knees, confessing to me—not them. They can debate punishments. I already know mine will leave a mark.
Everyone has a role they’ve slipped into. Maverick the mediator. Atticus plays judge. Storm plays fucking protector. And me? I’m the weapon that hasn’t been fired yet.
“But what punishment could possibly be worth what she did?” I ask, like she’s not in the fucking room.
She flinches. Just slightly. But I catch it. That tiny hitch in her breath, the way her shoulders round in Storm’s arms like she’s bracing for a blow she’s already given herself. I don’t need her to speak to hear the apology in her silence—it’s written in the way she won’t meet my eyes .
That’s actually not the real question. The real question is—what the fuck do we do now?
Do we pursue this, possibly going against our parents and whatever shady shit they’re up to?
Do we try to uncover it and stop it?
Or are we supposed to be on their side—and we stopped the potential blackmail before it happens, dealing with the mob and eradicating it completely?
It’s not like any of us have any love lost for our parents.
I curl my fists. Maybe the better option is to get rid of Phoenix, then just let the rest of it play out. Put our heads in the sand and turn our backs on this future problem for our parents to deal with.
I look at her, curled up in Storm’s lap like she belongs to him, and all I see is a liability I can’t let go of. Not because she deserves mercy, but because she already belongs to me. To all of us. And I haven’t decided if that’s a gift… or our doom.