Page 37 of Sadistic

Take your time. I'll be by your car.

"He knows I'm here," I tell Elfe.

"Of course he does." She walks me to the door. "Hey. I'm here, okay? Whatever you need. Even if it's to help bury a body."

"Don't joke about that."

"Who says I'm joking?" She hugs me tight. "You're stronger than you think, Rev. Don't let him make you forget that."

I step outside to find the parking lot mostly empty.

True to his word, Doran's standing by my Honda with Mikhail a few feet away.

But there's also a black Audi parked next to my car, gleaming like oil under the lights.

"Where’s my sister?" I look around the parking lot and don’t see her.

"Thought you'd run. Figured I’d use it to get you out of there," Doran says as I approach.

"I don't run."

He studies me, taking in the whiskey on my breath, the defiance in my stance. "Drowning your sorrows?"

"Processing my future."

"With Elfe?" When I don't answer, he steps closer. "She's a good friend. Smart. Loyal. Knows when to keep her mouth shut."

The implicit threat makes my spine stiffen. "Stay away from her."

"I have no interest in your friend." He pulls something from his pocket—car keys with a small wolf charm hanging from them. "These are yours."

"I have a car."

"You have a death trap held together by duct tape and prayer." He nods toward the Audi. "This is safer."

"Well, it’s what a college kid can afford. I’m not trying to get into more debt."

Doran chuckles. "You won’t be in any debt, little wolf. Go look at it."

I walk over to the Audi, run my hand along the window.

The glass is thicker than normal, the door heavier. "Bulletproof?"

"Among other modifications."

"How long have you had this waiting?"

"Long enough." He opens the driver's door. "Your Honda will be donated. The paperwork's already handled."

"You can't just?—"

"I can and I did." His voice carries that edge of authority that means I shouldn’t argue with him. "My wife doesn't drive a car that could kill her if someone taps the bumper."

"I'm not your wife yet."

"Two weeks, Revna. Start getting used to it."

I want to argue, want to throw the keys in his face and storm off.

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