Page 49 of Sadistic Retribution

My mind whirls. I hope this doesn’t have anything to do with this forced marriage bullshit Synn is going through.

“Fine, I'll meet you outside in fifteen minutes. Does that work?”

“You need to be presentable, so, no—not dressed like that. Thirty minutes, and you’d better be impeccably styled. Understand?”

“Yes, Father,” I grit out.

I force myself to take some deep breaths, then I start the one-mile trek back to the dorm. I’ve got to fill in the guys before I have to leave.

Phoenyxx

Demon is acting weird, even for him. Why did he bring me into 3’s cell?

“You want to be a savior? Here you go.” He almost spits as he talks. “You fucked up in there, Little Bird. You're useless!”

I gape at him in disbelief. “What the hell is your problem, asshat? Why are you so mad?”

He sneers, getting right in my face. “I expected better, 11. You're not the typical patient. You disappoint me.”

“I have no fighting experience, you walking dildo!”

Without another word, he storms out, and my heart rate triples with fear. What's going to happen to me now?

I hear a shuffle and a whimper from behind me. I turn to see 3, scooting out from under his bed. He holds my gaze as he comes closer. His eyes widen when he sees my condition and reaches up to tug on my hand. We both settle on his bed.

I'm happy to see him in clothes, though they’re baggy on his too-skinny frame. He makes a sad sound in his throat, andreaches up to touch the bleeding cut on my face. 3’s eyes turn to steel, and he pats me down all over, checking for other injuries.

“It’s okay, I’m alright,” I attempt to soothe him. He violently shakes head, grabbing both of my hands. He reaches up to tenderly cup my jaw. Oh, this golden-eyed boy. He's breaching my walls, and I can’t afford to let anyone else in. Ever again.

3 wraps his arms around me, trying to console me. Tears prick my eyes. I can’t help but think of the others. Why do I still miss them?

I wipe my eyes with my arm impatiently. He pulls back, looking at my face. He’s shaking, but he gently kisses the corners of my eyes, then touches his lips to mine again. I let him, shivering. I’m really scared. I can’t get my emotions involved with anyone else. How I feel about 6 is already pushing it. Dammit, I can’t get attached to him. Losing anyone else would destroy me.

We sit there for what feels like forever, then the lights go out like they do every “night”. I have no idea if it’s even nighttime, but it’s sleep time, anyway.

3 helps me get under the thin blanket, holding me close once we’re settled. I shut my eyes with a sigh. Surprisingly, I feel sleep overtake me quickly. This boy—he comforts me.

Frost

I grabbed the first suit I could find in my closet, pairing it with matching, shiny black dress shoes. I combed my silver hair back perfectly, and have my neutral, unfeeling mask firmly in place. My brothers flipped their shit when I told them about this dinner. I’m hoping I can get it over quickly.

I pace the front drive of The Retreat, waiting for my father’s driver to get here. I'm not waiting long when the telltale sound of wheels on pavement reaches my ears.

The fully decked-out black town car pulls up in front of me. The windows are tinted so dark, no one can see in.

The driver’s side door opens, Claude the chauffer stepping out. “Mr. Aslanov, good to see you, Sir. Right this way.”

I nod, allowing him to usher me into the back of the car. The home I grew up in isn’t terribly far from here, but it will take us a while to get there. Especially with Claude driving. He’s to the letter with all driving rules—including staying at exactly the speed limit.

All of our homes are in Milburn, which is a nice part of New Jersey with a lot of beautiful trees and gardens. This time of year is my favorite in Milburn. The crunch of the leaves underfoot is my favorite, but the way the leaves change colors is simply gorgeous.

I hate going home, though. My father is squarely to blame for that. He's such a strict, cruel asshole.

I have a bad feeling this has to do with a pending engagement, but to who, I have no clue. My father lit up like a fucking Christmas tree when he saw the emotion in my eyes.

Before I know it, we’re slowing down, pulling into the large, circular driveway for my home. It's a mansion—but all of our homes are. Only the best for the mob heirs, right?

Claude steps out again, opening my door. “Welcome home, Sir.”