Page 39 of Their Domme

“For now,” Vas growled, and Wrenn burst into laughter.

“She must be good if you’re that pissy about it. Razor and I will keep you up to date with shit on our end, but I better go. I see a few people eyeing me since I’ve been on the phone for so long.”

“We’ll call you tomorrow. There are questions we need to ask you,” Sacha added on.

Click.

Wrenn hadn’t bothered to respond to Sacha’s statement, but then I got a text.

Wrenn:Cops were coming. Talk to you tomorrow.

“Cops were coming her way,” I told Sacha. He glanced at me, acknowledging silently that he heard him, his expression thoughtful. A few steps away from me, Rhodes roughly rubbed his face before lighting his own cigarette and starting to pace.

“I’m going to kill every motherfucker behind this,” my uncle muttered, promises of murder and revenge dripping from every word.

“Could it be connected to the trafficking ring and Nic?” Oliver said, surprising me, though I guess I should have expected it. I’d rarely seen the man without a computer, but his mind was often split between the task in front of him and everyone else.

“Maybe.” Vas replied, leaning back and sharing a glance with Sacha.

“We won’t know for sure until we have more information,” Sacha replied then he turned to me with an intent look and propped his chin on his hand. He studied me for a minute before he looked at Oliver. “You and Oliver get to go back to Ashview tomorrow. Search our apartment, your apartments, rip everything down to the studs if you have to.”

“She told you?” I started.

“About her never coming back to get her stuff? Yes.” Sacha ran his fingers through his hair, pulling until it fell out of the bun he usually had up. “Who the fuck is this guy?”

“It’s a good thing you have some more people to help you with that now.” Ansel smiled, and the sight of it made a chill run up my spine. Not many things or people could shake me, but Ansel F?rstner was one of those people.

Nicholette

Tuesday

When I woke up the next morning, both Alexei and Maksim were gone and the bed sheets were cold.How long have I been here alone?Shoving down the pang of disappointment, I sat up, stretching until I noticed the angry man sitting in the corner of the room. He silently stared at me, his expression guarded.

Oliver.

His dirty blond hair was a mess. The scruff along his jawline told me he hadn’t shaved in a few days. His hazel eyes didn’t move from me as the tense silence thickened between us, but I didn’t know what to say. I knew he was angry about more than just me peacing out a month ago… The news I had dropped yesterday had been awful. Hell, I didn’t know what to think of my parents being part of the trafficking ring. They had been terrible, true, but I didn’t think their sins included selling children.

“You’re not going to say anything? No smartass remark this time? Are you sure you’re my Nic?” he asked, the dark circles under his eyes betraying just how exhausted he was.

“Would you like me to?” I quipped, tilting my head. I was trying not to tear up at the implication that he still thought of me as his. Part of me hadn’t been sure that would still be true when I came back. “Would that make this easier?”

“What would have made this easier if you had stayed! Come to us!” Oli lashed out, his face flushed in anger. “Instead, you go off on your own—”

“I’m not some fucking damsel in distress!” I shot back heatedly, instantly riled up.

“We could have helped you. But no!!! Not you, Nic,youalways have to do things on your own while damning the rest of us.”

“Just like you?” I asked pointedly, not about to let him get away with pinning this all on me. “I do shit on my own because the only person I could ever rely on was myself, something I know you can relate to. Before you point all the fingers at me, saying how could I do this or that, think about that for a minute.”

“My shit only dealt with me!” Oli yelled back, jumping out of the chair.

“And mine had to deal with more than just you guys and your fucking delicate male egos,” I shot back, pushing myself up to kneel on the bed. I wasn’t going to let him intimidate me. “My brother, all of you, these babies, fuck, even my own goddamn self are on the line, Oliver. It’s not just about you or me. Have you thought of it like that? Did it ever once cross your fucking mind that I was trying to protect you from the asshole that’s made my life hell for years. I’m sorry I love you all enough to try to protect you. So to hell with me for caring or giving a damn at all, I guess.”

“That means you should have come to us.” Oliver steadfastly held to his point, not swayed by what I was saying. “Don’t give me some sob story, sweetheart.” I tensed at his sarcastic use of the nickname, my anger making me tremble though I tried to hide it.

“Maybe I should have. I could have made a mistake, but I did the best I fucking could. So fuck you! Fuck you and your stupid, selfish ass. I hate—” I was interrupted when Oliver stalked over and grabbed my neck, pulling me into a heated kiss.

It wasn’t sweet or loving. It was a punishment, a reunion of pain and blood, and we fought for dominance. He tilted us backward, covering my body with his own as I wound my arms around his neck. Teeth and tongues crashed together; we poured our anger and hurt into each other until he pulled back.

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