Page 80 of The Boy I Loved
Her lips twitched into a sad smile. “I love you too, Dom.”
I might have hatedMason for what he’d done, and our friendship might have been on the rocks, but I couldn’t deny his usefulness. If I needed something from him and it didn’t interfere with what he wanted, he always came through. He kept an eye on Hazel when I couldn’t. Obviously, he wouldn’t interfere if something did happen to her, but he at least kept me in the loop.
Tristan had been more on edge lately, taking his rage out on Emerson who walked around sporting an assortment of bruises and black eyes. I didn’t know what his fucking deal was. My guess was that he allowed his control to slip when fucking Hazel and he hated it. As long as he didn’t take out his revenge on her, I didn’t give a shit. He seemed to steer clear from her from what I’d seen and from what Mason had told me. That offered me some relief. In fact, nobody had bothered her much since that night, which made me wonder if Tristanclaimingher had anything to do with it.
A new addition I noticed was Hazel’s name scribbled out on the clipboard in regards to training. He made her off-limits in every single fucking regard. He seemed to be obsessed with her. I knew he didn’t do feelings or even love; he just wanted to own, possess, and control her. If it kept her safe, he could do whatever the hell he wanted, but Hazel Montogomery would never be off-limits to me.
My eyes skated over Tristan, who was seated in the lounge witha worn-down Emerson on his lap. Her skin was pale, bruises marring half of her body. She looked worse off than Stacy did. It didn’t concern me. Emerson wasn’t the nicest girl around and didn’t stay Tristan’s ‘top girl’ without getting her hands dirty.
Tristan’s bloodshot eyes locked with mine, the tell-tell sign he’d been drinking and possibly shooting one of his favorite substances—methamphetamine. He was a lost cause, nothing more than a joke with a dick between his legs that he used as a weapon.
I could taunt him. I could remind him of the little scene I’d walked in on a few days ago. It would piss him off, but it would also piss Emerson off, and I didn’t want to add another target on Hazel’s back.
Before I could decide if I was going to take the seat across from him or not, Nicholas and Mason came up beside me. Mason offered me a sandwich, which only had my eyebrows raising in response.
We hadn’t been on the best of terms lately. If this was his attempt at a truce, it was pathetic. Still, I took the food item and lowered myself onto the recliner. The thought of food hadn’t appealed to me in days. Maybe even longer. But I needed to eat to keep up my energy. Things could go sideways within a matter of seconds.
Nicholas took the spot beside Tristan, leaving Mason to sink into the chair beside mine. Girls wandered around aimlessly, their nervous glances flicking every which way like we’d turn on them if they made the slightest move we didn’t like.
“How long has Rodney been working here?” I asked casually, unwrapping the sandwich before sinking my teeth into the doughy bread.
Tristan’s eyebrows rose, like he hadn’t expected the question. Once the shock wore off, a small smile tugged at the edges of his mouth. I didn’t like the look in his eyes. Once again, he acted like he knew something big that I didn’t. To my knowledge, he’d beenaround for less than a year, but that didn’t mean it was accurate. I’d merely assumed he was new since I’d seen very little of him.
“You’re joking, right?” Mason queried, drawing my attention to him.
“Do I look like I’m fucking joking?” I growled, annoyance sparking to life within me.
“You might want to have a conversation with Clay about that one,” Nicholas answered.
Yeah … right. Let me get right on that.
Clay wasn’t the kind of person to feed you information unless it was something he wanted you to know. He was also a liar, a snake, and a manipulator. I was also pretty sure that it wouldn’t be the smartest move since my last conversation with him pissed him off.
“If Clay hasn’t told him yet, he doesn’t plan to.” Tristan smirked, gripping Emerson’s hip so tightly that she squirmed with discomfort.
“You want to enlighten me?” I challenged. “Or is it some big secret I’m not allowed to know?”
It pissed me the fuck off that Clay was keeping shit like this from me. Not only were we related, but I’d been with him for the last two and a half years. I’d shown my loyalty by committing horrendous acts and never once complained until Hazel or Alice were brought into question. What else did I have to do to prove myself? The sandwich suddenly felt like sandpaper against my tongue, but I forced myself to chew through it, swallowing it down with the same aggression that was running through my veins.
Mason scratched the back of his neck nervously, his eyes drifting over to Tristan like he expected him to answer so he didn’t have to. Nobody wanted to risk pissing my uncle off, which I understood to an extent, but come the fuck on.
Finally, Nicholas blew out a long breath. “Rodney is Clay’s son. I thought you knew that.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
HAZEL
The only timeI saw Dominic was during training. We shared lingering glances, but he didn’t try to speak to me again. Everyone seemed to leave me alone now, even during sessions. Tristan wouldn’t look me in the eye, opting to pretend I didn’t exist, but that was fine with me. He got what he wanted, and he’d moved on. Honestly, it worked out in my favor.
Stacy, Lauren, and I had begun to develop a friendship. We comforted one another on darker days, when that familiar feeling of hopelessness became too overwhelming. Things were becoming monotonous. How was I supposed to learn anything and get out of the basement, if they never chose me to do anything? I knew it sounded insane. It wasn’t because Iwantedto do these things, but it was no secret that the girls in the lounge got more freedom and extra perks. Most of them didn’t even have to attend training sessions. They even got makeup, real beds, and bathroom privileges.
The cold wall pressed against my spine, my eyes peering into the shadows blanketing the basement through the bars. A cold chill swept over my skin from the poor ventilation. How long had I beenhere now? The days had started bleeding into one another, making it harder to keep track.
Whimpers pierced the dark air, followed by incessant begging. I clamped my eyes tightly shut, attempting to regulate my breathing. Tristan was on duty again tonight. I wasn’t sure what woman he chose to target, but her voice sounded familiar.
“Fighting me will only make it worse,” he snarled, his tone laced with darkness and malice. He seemed to be in worse of a mood tonight than when he came for me.
I drew my knees to my chest, holding the thin blanket around me in an attempt to keep warm. I could hear the struggle, followed by the sound of something hard connecting with flesh. I winced, my breathing coming out thicker. He must have hit her. What else could have caused that sound? I glanced over at Stacy, her back pressed to the wall as mine was. She gave me a subtle shake of her head, silently willing me not to offer myself up on a silver platter like I had with Nia—something she reprimanded me for the following day.
