Page 158 of Hexed
Probably a bit of both.
There are a few of what look like large orange paint buckets lined up against the wall next to Enzo and a sink that’s just beyond that, and he walks to the buckets and picks one up. It looks heavy, and when he gets closer, I realize it’s filled with ice and water.
What is he gonna do with that?
I don’t have to wait long for my answer because he takes the bucket and throws the water on Frankie, who jolts out of his woozy state with a start and a sharp yell.
“Wake up, sweetheart.” Enzo’s voice is low and controlled.
It’s the same type of tone he gets when he’s fucking me, but lacking the warmth. Doesn’t matter—I find it turns me on terribly anyway.
He drops the bucket next to him and stands directly in front of Frankie, his arms crossed. I can only see Enzo’s back from here, but I wish I could walk up behind him and press a kiss to his shoulders.
Frankie groans, his head lolling to the side a bit before he shakes himself out of the stupor.
“The more you pass out, the longer this will take.” Enzo smacks his cheek lightly with his hand. A double tap, tap, but it’s enough to make Frankie open his eyes more.
Sighing, Enzo cracks his neck and turns to me. “Your turn.”
My brows lift, and I look behind me before pointing to myself. “Me?”
Enzo grins and nods, gesturing to the long metal table he was just at, and that’s when I realize what’s on top of it. Before now, I had just been focused on Frankie and trying to ignore the dead animals and the smell of blood and death lingering in the air.
Do they actually kill the animals down here?Gross, if yes.
“I thought you’d want to play,” Enzo says.
I walk over to the table, realizing there are different things here Icouldactually play with. My fingers dust over the needles and syringes, then to vials labeled and filled with powders and liquids.
“How did you get all this here?” I ask, glancing back at him.
“I own this city, baby. If I want it, I get it.” He reaches across his chest and grabs his gun from the holster, holding it sideways and flipping it back and forth like he’s inspecting it. “Plus, Gio’s resourceful.”
My heart warms at the touching gesture. “And you did all this…for me?”
He glances up from his weapon and smiles widely. “I’d do anything for you.”
Looking back at the table, I pick up a white powder labeleddextroamphetamineand tilt my head. “You want me to wake him up?”
“It’d be helpful,” he replies.
I take my time with the powder, mixing it in with a bit of water before filling the syringe and spinning around to grin atEnzo. “This is really thoughtful of you, you know? I would have been fine just watching.”
I walk over to Frankie, sinking my teeth into my lower lip while I stare at him.
God, he looks just like my aunt Ella. Fury marinates in my bones.
I jab the needle harshly into his thigh and press the syringe, watching the amphetamine go into his system. I didn’t weigh it out, but I know from eyeballing it that it should be enough to get him going: heart racing, feeling euphoria, and my favorite—the chatty-Kathy syndrome.
It might also backfire and cause him to panic since he’s hanging from a ceiling with blood dripping from his wrists. It looks like his right shoulder might be dislocated, and there’sdefinitelysomething wrong with his foot based on the angle it’s bent.
He jolts awake with a start, inhaling a heavy gasp, his eyes flinging around the room.
Recognition flares in his irises, his body flailing even though the movement is only hurting him.
I spin around and beam at Enzo, and his eyes soften. His arms are crossed over his broad chest, the gun in his hand resting on top of his right bicep.
“Frankie, you know why you’re here?” he asks.
