Page 60 of My Turn

“Will you stop pacing?” he snapped.

I turned to him with a raised brow. Preston was sitting up, strapped to a hospital bed I bought off of Facebook Marketplace a while back. Why? You never know when you might need it and these things were versatile. I could lay him back or keep him like this, plus it was easy to strap someone down. They worked well for long or short stays and were easy enough to clean.

Maybe my mental state had been in a weird place for a while, but this was the first time I’d used the bed, so that counted for something.

“It’s ballsy to make demands in your position,” I noted, coming to stand in front of him. He tugged on the restraints, which was useless.

“It’s 2024, asshole. People get caught so fast for this kind of shit.”

“Do they?”

“Someone is already on their way here. They’ll track my phone.”

“The one I smashed and threw in the river when we crossed the bridge heading out of the city before circling back?”

His confidence wavered, but he attempted to maintain his fierce expression. I hadn’t liked him when he took Alana on that godawful date and I especially didn’t like him now. When I put him in the bed, I made sure to fuck up his combover, which was satisfying to look at.

“Cool. Now that we’ve established that…” I grabbed a chair and swung it around to sit in front of him. I leaned forward, perching my elbows on the backrest. “We have a problem, Preston.”

“How do you know who I am? Is this some trafficking thing?”

My nose wrinkled. “If it was, I would’ve thrown you in the river too. You wouldn’t be worth the fifty bucks I’d get for you.”

“Fuck you. You’re a crazy bastard.”

“You’re right. I’d probably have to pay them to take you off my hands. It’s not worth the trouble, if I’m being honest, so what should I do with you?”

“I don’t want to play whatever weird game you’ve concocted.”

Tutting at him, I ran my fingers over the smooth metal of the chair. “I play games, true, but this isn’t one of those times. With Alana, I fucking love to play.”

His mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding. This is about the girl? Jesus. Look, I don’t give a shit about her. If she’s yourgirlfriend or somethin’, I’d tell you to move on, but that’s on you. I won’t talk to her again.”

“Mm. I’m actually annoyed with her.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” His voice had reached an annoyingly loud volume and there was a smile on his face. He thought we were bonding over shared disdain for a woman now.

“Annoyance isn’t nearly strong enough to take me away from Alana. She could cut me open and spill my intestines in the street. I’d still profess my love with my dying breath. Maybe I love her enough to take her to the grave with me. You never really know until it happens, I’m sure. Do you think Heathcliff knew he’d lose his damn mind and lie in Catherine’s grave with her? Bet he didn’t.”

Preston appeared confused. His eyes moved to various parts of the room, pausing on a few things. A shovel. A toolbox. Gardening equipment. Weapons he thought he could use if he broke free, I imagine.

Standing, I moved to the side of the bed. “Of all the days you had to act like a dick, you chose today. You made her cry, Preston.”

I flipped open my pocket knife and poised it at his throat. He sucked in a sharp breath. When he started to shake his head, the blade pricked his skin and he went still.

“And here’s the thing,” I went on. “A few weeks ago, I would have let it slide. Maybe I’d rough you up a bit if I was feeling bold that day, but now…” I blew out a breath, puffing my cheeks as I did so. “I’ve tasted her. I’ve marked her. I made her cum so beautifully. You should’ve fucking seen it, Preston. Although, then I’d have to take your eyes.”

He squeezed them shut, drawing in shuddering breaths now. With each one, the blade dug in a little further and put him in a predicament. Breathe or keep his throat intact. His survival instincts must have been fighting like mad for a solution.

“As it stands, I only need to take your tongue for what you said to her, but this isn’t fiction. I can’t just do that, then let you go. I don’t have the type of resources it’d take to keep you quiet. That leaves me one choice.”

“Please,” he gritted out.

“I don’t bargain. You should know that about me. I’m very committed to getting the things that I want. It’s why I’ve protected her for so long. It’s why I killed my twin fucking brother. You think you’re above him and can earn my mercy?”

There it was. The finality, the fear that was unlocked when someonereallydiscovered that they were completely fucked. Death was scary, but torture was sickening to think about. I wondered which one he feared more.

“You don’t have to kill me,” he insisted.

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