Page 9 of Chaos & Carnage
I smile serenely at him—or as serenely as someone covered in someone else’s blood can. “A phone.”
“No.”
A surprised noise escapes my lips. “What do you mean, no? You just told me I’ve been here for two days. People will be looking for me.”
“They are.”
I splutter. “They are? How do you know that?”
“They already came by.”
All I can do is gape at him as he relaxes back in his chair, watching me with a small smile playing on his lips like he finds my reaction amusing.
“And what, you didn’t think to introduce yourself and let them know I’m fine?”
“Introductions aren’t my forte.” I’d roll my eyes if it wasn’t likely to worsen my headache. Seriously, what the fuck does that even mean?! He gives a casual shrug of his shoulders. “Besides, it seemed like they had some shit to work out. Thought I’d give them some time to work it out amongst themselves.”
“I don’t…” I can feel a new headache starting up, exhaustion tugging on my already weary body. “What does that even mean?”
Spinning back to his computer, he opens a folder, clicks on a video file, and a second later it plays, showing me a bird’s-eye-view of the ground floor, where I passed out after killing that Antonelli bastard. A tightness forms in my chest as Oliver and Cain come storming in, and I have to stop myself from reaching out and touching the screen. I can see the concern buried in the tight lines around their eyes and in the tense set of their shoulders as they inspect the space and notice the blood smeared on the floor from where I all but collapsed.
They spin as the door opens and Enzo and Dante join them. My heart jumps in my chest, banging against my ribs as though it’s trying to break free. As I watch, I can see the rising tensions, the hostility that leaches into the air as Dante and Cain turn to face each other, harsh words that I can’t hear being said.
I lean forward, squinting as I try to read their lips. “What are they saying?”
He fiddles with a couple of buttons before sound pours out of the speakers. Cain’s words drip with fury, stabbing me like a red-hot poker over and over. “You shouldn’t even be a part of this fucking equation! Neither of you should. You were a fucking job, but you just couldn’t leave her well enough alone, could you? You just had to fucking have her.”
My chest constricts painfully, guilt damn near drowning me as Cain lets all that anger over this situation pour out. Anger he’s never once directed at me, even though this is all my fault.
Where Cain is piping hot, a gasket ready to blow, Dante is the avalanche you never see coming. His glacial tone strikes like an icicle piercing my heart.
“She was mine long before she was ever yours. Before you even knew who she was. That she existed. The only reason either of you is still breathing is because that’s what she wants, but make no mistake, I’d happily take her away from both of you. Hide her somewhere neither of you will ever find her and watch from afar as you drive yourselves insane searching for her. I already warned you, I don’t care if Sawyer has feelings for you. I will fucking end you with a smile on my face and fuck her until she forgets you ever existed.”
Watching the two of them go head-to-head, their true feelings displayed for the other to see—no one disguising how they really feel for my benefit—makes it so goddamn clear how naïve and foolish I’ve been, thinking that with some time and a little adjusting, they could come to tolerate one another. I was counting on Dante’s obsession, and Cain and Oliver’s love to be enough, but that was foolishly optimistic of me. It’s painfully obvious right now that neither my Rejects nor my mafia men will ever agree to get along. They will never be able to be in the other’s presence without throwing hateful glares or spiteful words at the other, and no matter how much I may wish that they would, they will never lay down their weapons and declare peace with the other.
With my shoulders slumped in defeat, I turn away from the screen, unable to watch anymore. He closes out of the video and returns to whatever he was working on while I stew in my thoughts, trying to figure out where the hell we go from here.
I still firmly believe we all need to work together. Now more than ever, we need one another, with Giovanni trying to hunt us down and pick us off one by one. He won’t stop until we’re all tortured, dead, and dumped in the river as fish food, and yet, I have no ideahowto get everyone to work together. If they can’t even put their differences aside to help find me, how will they do it for Black Creek?
“You’re a terrible host,” I remark when my stomach rumbles for the third time. “You haven’t even bothered to feed me.”
He turns slightly to face me, quirking a brow. “You have arms and legs.”
I huff out a breath, but I don’t make a move to get up. Honestly, even the thought of trying to move has what little energy I’ve regained zapping straight out of me. “I don’t even know your name.”
“You don’t need to know my name.”
“We’re friends. Friends are supposed to know each other’s names.”
“We’re not friends.”
“We’re as close to being friends as one gets in Black Creek,” I counter. It’s the truth. Sure, our first encounter was essentially him telling me to fuck off and not come back, and our second encounter didn’t go much better. When I asked him to get me new IDs for Hadley, and he again told me to fuck off and not come back. But, you see, there’s a recurring pattern—he tells me to fuck off and not come back, and then I inevitably come back—and that only happens with friendships. At least, that’s what I’ve decided. We seem to keep crossing paths—or at least, I keep crossing his path—so striking up a friendship just makes good sense.
I hold out my hand with a friendly grin—that I’m fairly certain doesn’t come across as friendly, what with the blood I can feel clogged in my pores. “I’m Red.” He knows this already, but clean slate and all that.
His gaze drops to my outstretched hand, and I can see the cogs turning behind them. Eventually, he sighs, rolling his eyes before he lifts his head. “I’m not touching your hand. It’s caked in filth and blood.”
Unbothered, I shrug a shoulder, not breaking eye contact as I wait patiently. When he doesn’t say anything further, I cock a brow expectantly and shift in my chair, getting more comfortable and making it apparent that I’ll happily sit here all day. I won’t—I’ve four furious, pissed-off men to go try to corral—but he doesn’t need to know that.