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“With a quiet fury,” I say with a laugh. “He hasn’t said much to me or Nicky either. I think he’s still processing everything that comes with leadership. You know what they say, ‘It’s not easy being King’,”

Vinny climbs out of the car and walks around to the passenger side, opening my door and helping me out. It takes everything in me not to cry like a fucking baby from the pain.

Vinny’s arm is back around my waist, and her body is warm, and despite her size, strong. She angles us toward the door and takes the key from me, shoving it into the lock. It takes a minute, but the lock gives, and a moment later we’re inside. The lights work, and I jerk my chin down the hall.

“There’s an elevator.” Lav hesitates. “Aw, fuck, Vin.”

I’m a dick.

“It’s fine,” she promises.

I shake my head. “We can take the stairs. It’s only four flights.”

“No, you can’t. You’re barely upright,” she says. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “We’ve got this.”

Once her mind is made up, Vinny works fast, getting us inside and helping me lean against the wall. Through gritted teeth, I tell her “Top floor.” She takes another deep breath, stabs the button, and the doors slide shut. I squeeze her hand and say, “Hey…”

She looks up at me, eyes wide, and I distract her the only way I know how. I kiss the hell out of her.

The box zooms upward, but all I feel is the pinch of her nails in my forearms as she holds onto me and heat of her tongue in my mouth. My cock joins in, trying to break free of my shorts. She tastes so good. Feels so good. Better than a million hits of scratch. With my good side, I lift my hand to cup her breast but the elevator jerks to a stop, and the bell dings, ending the ride. Thank fuck, because my legs are about to give out, and my abdomen feels like it’s being stabbed by not just one blade but a million.

At least I got to feel her boob.

“You okay?” I ask as she helps me out.

“Yeah.” She grins. “We did it.”

“Fuck yeah, we did.” I sway to the side, and she catches me. “Oh, shit.”

“Bed?” she asks.

“That door over there.” I don’t even take in where we are, the room growing hazy around me, but I feel her hand in mine.

The last thing I remember before falling asleep is soft sheets and the feel of Vinny next to me, content with the knowledge that despite losing tonight, wherever she is, I’m home.

“Turn over.”

She rolls across the mattress, exposing her backside to me, and I press the soft felt tip against her skin. She’s in tight little shorts and a tank pushed up around her neck—both delivered by Jade. There’s no way she got Vinny’s size wrong, so I’m taking the skimpy outfit as a get-well-soon present. The knife wound continues to hurt like a motherfucker but the injury had no effect on my cock, which has been somewhere between half and full erect since we got here.

Unfortunately,someonedoesn’t want me to overexert myself, and I’ve had no fucking relief.

We’re two days into exile, holed up in Saul’s lover’s old apartment on the top floor of the Gazette. It’s not too shabby, with an updated kitchen, bath and bedroom with a nice-sized bed. There’s at least one other room, and an office, but I haven’t had time to explore much since I slept the whole first day. The only time I was awake was when Vinny gave me antibiotics and forced me to eat and drink. It hurts less in my sleep—the woundandmy pride.

Today I feel a little better, and my hands are twitching, eager to get moving. If Vinny isn’t going to let me finger her sweet pussy, then I’ll do the next best thing: mark her up.

I start my work up at the brand and move out, creating a constellation of Orion–visible on clear nights right now. Propped on her elbows, Vinny holds a brittle, yellowing newspaper between her hands. Our circumstances may not be ideal, but the unlimited supply of reading material has my girl pretty content.

“Jesus Christ.” She abruptly sets the paper down. “Just when I think Forsyth can’t get any more fucked up.”

“What are you talking about?” I connect the lines between the stars in the dip of her lower back.

Her neck turns, looking back at me. “Did you know there was a serial killer active in the city about twenty years ago?”

“No shit?”

“Yeah, he even had a creepy moniker: The Forsyth Carver.”

Well, that doesn’t leave much to the imagination. “Knife kink, huh?”