Page 157 of Crushing Clover

I felt my head shake slightly, as though I had no control over it. “What do you mean?”

Rush and Lucky got to their feet, and Rush stepped out into the hall, turning one way, then the other, looking for her.

“You’re off the hook,” Warren said, punctuating the statement with a humorless snort. “She’s been squared away.”

“Squared away how? What the fuck are you talking about?” I demanded.

“I threw her at you to see what would happen. It didn’t result in the fireworks I was expecting.” He shrugged.

The world lurched. I was going to puke.

“What did you do?”

“She’s on her way to her next owner.”

White-hot rage seared behind my eyes, accompanied by a hard ball of something in my chest that felt suspiciously like panic.

I struggled to maintain my composure. Losing my shit had never gotten me anywhere with this man. He didn’t respect emotional outbursts, but he did find them amusing.

“You sold her?” Lucky snapped. He was shaking with barely contained fury, but Lucky throwing a fit and punching him wouldn’t solve this. Rush caught him by the arm, but Lucky shook him off. “Clover is a human being.”

“Oh please. Don’t try to act like you’re better than me. Did you get to know her before you fucked her? Did you give her a choice? Do you think the little sex slave you’ve been abusing loves you now?”

The silence grew uncomfortable. Everyone in this room knew what we’d done to her.

“Get her back,” I said quietly.

I wanted to punch him.

I wanted to pick him up and throw him across the fucking room.

A glint of malevolent glee shone in the bastard’s gaze. “You expect me to give her to you as a gift? Where’s your pride now? You said after you paid off this loan, you’d never speak to me again, and now you’re asking to borrow more?”

“How much?” I asked carefully. Who knew what another man would do to her? Put her in a snuff flick? Chain her in some dank brothel where she serviced men until they broke her body as well as her mind?

An unfamiliar wave of…something passed through me, twisting my stomach with dread and making my bones feel hollow.

I watched the man who sired me inspect our expressions, gauging exactly how far he could push us. No matter what we owed him after this, we were cutting Warren completely out of our life. Fucking with me was one thing—letting him fuck with the people I loved wasn’t going to happen again. If he tried it, I’d fucking kill him.

“I want Cygnet.” He held out his hand, mocking me, as though ready to shake on the offer. He knew I’d never accept. We’d built Cygnet up from nothing. Years of toil—years of dealing with Warren and his smug condescension as we scraped by, making his atrociously inflated payments on the loan that banks wouldn’t give us.

Cygnet wasn’t only my life’s work—it was my soul’s work.

I thought of Clover. Of her wide eyes and her smart mouth. Of her weird sense of humor and resilience. Of every precious freckle on her face.

I didn’t need to look at Lucky or Rush as I took Warren's hand.

“Done.”

We shook on it, then I punched him in his smug, hateful mouth.

His head rocked back, and a few nonsensical words escaped his lips. It had been a decent punch, but far less than he deserved.

For Clover, I punched him twice more, not knowing when or if I should stop. Anything short of murder was letting him off easy.

He looked completely stunned. I doubted Warren had ever been punched in his privileged fucking life. Someone should have done it years ago.

Two of his bodyguards jogged in.

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