Page 91 of Uprising

“What?” Darius growls.

“We’ve already dealt with it.”

“I thought you had people watching Carla after Ignatio disappeared.”

“We did. They got them.”

“They’re dead?”

“Yes.”

Darius curses again and then I hear something smash. “I told you.” He growls. “I made it perfectly clear that she was not to be taken. She knows too much.”

“Why do you think I had men on her?” Carter growls. “I gave them specific instructions. They knew if any attempts were made then Carla was to be neutralised.”

“Is there a chance she’s dead? That she was shot and that you haven’t found the body?”

“I think that’s high unlikely.”

“Fine. Do what you need to. Go street to street, I don’t give a shit how much noise you make.”

“We need to be savvy.” Carter replies. “We need to instil calm. The last thing we need is people thinking you’re losing control.”

“I don’t give a fuck what people think.” Darius shouts. “We cannot allow them to find out. We cannot allow them to realise what she knows.”

“I’ll deal with it.” Carter says.

“You find her, you kill her.” Darius snaps.

I gulp, creeping backwards, slipping back into the bedroom, into the darkness.

I can smell his scent in the area, I can smell his body odour, and his cologne but in this moment that’s not what’s making me want to gag.

What does my mother know? What the hell is she aware of that means Darius wants her dead? I always thought the two of them were thick as thieves. He never seemed to show any animosity to her in the past so what the fuck has changed all that?

“What are you doing out of bed?”

I let out a whimper spinning around as Darius is stood, in the doorway, like some sort of monster.

“He said my mother was missing…” I begin.

He tilts his head. “You hate your mother.”

“And?”

“Do you think I’m stupid enough to believe such a lie?” He half snarls.

“She’s still my mother.” I say stepping back, retreating. “I’m allowed to be concerned.”

“Is that what you are Rose?” He asks crossing the room, catching me in his grip. “Are you concerned?”

I shut my eyes, my bile rising to my throat, all I want to do is shove him off, to lash out, to fight.

“Get back in that bed and shut the fuck up.” He says all but shoving me onto the mattress.

I clamber in, waiting for the disgusting feel of his hands, waiting for the inevitable clues that’s he’s going to assault me once more.

Except he doesn’t. He just stands there watching me before he turns and storms out.

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