Page 46 of Forged in Rain

The bitch doesn’t like me, but I’ll take her glares and snooty attitude for a lifetime if it means getting away from Saul.

“None of your business. Move along,” Saul barks.

“I don’t think so,” some dude says, and I glance around Saul’s shoulder.

I don’t recognize him, but he’s standing with Natasha, his frown fierce as he looks between us.

Snarling, Saul shoves against me so hard I see stars before backing away, saying, “This isn’t over.”

As soon as he’s gone, I pull my ankle from the door, but it hurts so fucking badly that I sag, leaning against the frame until Natasha approaches with a long-suffering sigh.

“C’mon,” she says.

Chapter Eight

Three hours later, I’m home with a brace and a seriously fuzzy head. I was given pain meds that knocked me on my ass while they x-rayed me and called me good but encouraged me to wear the wrap until the majority of the swelling goes down.

Pam gets me into bed with a frown, and I know she’s wondering about my story, but I couldn’t exactly admit the truth, so I lied and said I got caught in the door by accident.

She made me turn off my phones when she picked me up, annoyed by the sound of multiple texts coming through. Now, as I lay on my bed, I turn them back on blearily before passing into a deep sleep.

I’m dozing again when Iris calls me hours later and I jump out of my skin, grabbing up the phone. “Iris, what’s going on?”

In my weird-ass sleep-induced haze, I’m caught in the early days when we had to worry about John, and only as I glance down at my throbbing ankle do I come back to earth, and my rapidly beating heart slows.

“Iris isn’t available right now,” Saul says, “but maybe if you came out here, I could help you.”

“What? Where’s Iris?”

Shit, so much for calming.

“She’s a little fucked up. Don’t worry, she’ll be fine.” His dismissive tone ratchets my paranoia. Now I’m worried about Iris being stoned or drunk or both with this asshat beside her.

However, this is not an unusual occurrence, so I set it aside.

“No thanks,” I say flatly, but his following words stop me cold.

“You sure about that? We have unfinished business.”

“There’s nothing more to say,” I whisper.

“Listen, you little bitch, I let you go when I didn’t have to, and now you’re causing more trouble than you’re worth. You want Iris to live? Get your ass to my house,” he says before hanging up on me.

Oh fuck. All thoughts of Saul’s attack on me earlier flee in the face of his threats, and with shaky fingers, I open another text, praying that Cyn answers me this time. But I already have texts, and I read through them quickly before responding.

Beauty, where are you?

What happened? Are you home?

Goddamnit beauty, answer me now

Although I don’t remember doing it, I must have answered his texts because he stopped when I told him I was home and sleeping. With a shaky sigh, I send a new text, biting my lip at the intense throbbing in my ankle.

I need your help

Waiting with bated breath, I tap my thigh rapidly, staring at the screen until finally, he responds, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

How can you be in trouble when you were told not to leave your house?

---