His brows shoot up, and he laughs as the pride begins to overwhelm him. “No fucking way,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief. “She really fucking made it.”
“She did, and it’s all thanks to you. Now she’s helping other girls that were in her situation do the same. She turned my life around at least, for a while she had, and because of her, I was actually looking forward to my future. You know, until now.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” he tells me, moving straight past my last comment. “What’s her situation? Does she have a boyfriend? Married?”
“I don’t know,” I say with a shrug. “I didn’t see any ring on her finger, but that doesn’t mean that she doesn't have someone.” He nods, lost in thought. “When was the last time you checked in with her?”
“It’s been a while,” he tells me. “Maybe two years. I try to keep my distance. The less I’m in her life, the less reason she has to come back.”
“I get that, but don’t you think that—”
“Ocean,” Russo’s deep, booming voice calls across the bar. My head whips his way as Christian presses his lips into a tight, disapproving line. “With me, now.”
I swallow back fear, hating the uncertainty. What does he want with me? I hesitate for a moment before Christian nods, silently telling me that it’s not wise to keep him waiting. I scoop my drink off the bar and start following Russo out of the bar when Christian calls back to me. “Ocean,” he says. I glance back to find his eyes on mine before he mouths, “Lock your door.”
I nod, letting him know that I’ve understood him and consider running for the door when Russo snaps at me. “Keep up. Your boyfriend's pathetic little pissing contest has already wasted enough of my time tonight. There will be consequences for any more lost time.”
Fuck.
I hurry to keep up with him and follow him through a maze of doors until we come to a long hallway. “These are the living quarters,” Russo explains. “These are for Wolves who find themselves without a place to sleep.”
“I already have a place to sleep,” I remind him. “And it’s in Bellevue Springs.”
“I appreciate that,” he tells me. “But until I can be sure that you’re not about to go running back to Dominic or his friends, here is where you’ll stay.”
“But what about school? I go to school in Bellevue Springs. I can’t go all the way there and back every day. That’s insane.”
Russo presses his lips into a tight line. “Well then, you better gain my trust fast.”
He comes to a stop outside a bedroom door and slips a key into the lock. He gives it a quick jiggle before finally getting it unlocked and pushing the door wide. “I suggest you get a good night’s sleep tonight. You have a lot of talking to do tomorrow.”
With that, he hands me the key and leaves me to fend for myself.
I step over the threshold into the dark room, feeling around on the wall for the light switch. After what feels like far too long, I get the light on, and the room floods with a dull brightness. I instantly close the door behind me and lock it, just as Christian had said.
I start looking around the small room. There’s a single bed with sheets that look used, a dresser that’s missing its handles, and a single bedside table with a shitty lamp. It’s like a cell in here.
There’s a small bathroom attached to the room, and I’m honestly terrified of walking in there, but I haven’t peed since the doctor's office this morning. After sitting at the bar all day, I’m getting a little desperate.
I start making my way toward the bathroom door when I hear someone walking toward my door. Panic settles into my soul—deep and terrifying. Without thinking, I throw myself across the room and shove my shoulder into the dresser. I push it hard, over and over again until the heavy wooden piece of shit is firmly in front of the door. Then just to ease my fear, I pull Scarface’s gun from the back of my school skirt.
I find myself standing still, listening out as the footsteps come closer. My heart races and my palms begin to sweat.
When I came here, I never imagined that I’d have to stay the night. There are a lot of things that I can deal with. But being caught alone in a warehouse full of predators is not exactly something a normal seventeen-year-old is experienced with.
The footsteps sound right outside my door, and I hardly hear them over the sound of my pulse beating right in my eardrum. There’s a short pause before the footsteps pick up again and continue down the hall.
The relief is so heavy that I fall to my knees, still clutching the gun tightly in my hand.