Page 43 of The First Cut

I cock my head. “I was bait?”

He swallows but doesn’t refute my question. My stomach feels like lead, making everything that happened in the changing room feel different now I’m looking at it without a rose-tinted filter. I push through the hurt, knowing I’m being pathetic. He promised me he wouldn’t hit, but that’s all he promised. I need to stop looking for happily ever afters in all the wrong places.

He grabs my hands as he kneels in front of me. “I don’t have all the information yet. He only sent a couple of men here. We made a mistake thinking that Khan would act with logic.”

He rubs his hand over his face. “He sent a group of men to the book signing. They opened fire on a room full of innocent people.”

I gasp in shock. I know what an asshole Khan is better than most, but even I wouldn’t have expected that.

“Is everyone okay?”

“Some civilians were hurt, but as of right now, there have been no fatalities.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“One of our prospects, Dice, was shot. I don’t have the details, but he’s in surgery. Everyone else on our end is fine, other than Crane taking a bullet to the shoulder.”

“Oh god.”

“I know this is a lot to take in, but I need you to pack your things because we’re leaving in thirty minutes.”

“Leaving? Where are we going?”

“We’re going home, doll.”

I pull my hands from his and jump up from the bed. “They’ll kill me. Khan's?—”

“Dead. Khan's dead, Lola. I’m now officially the president of the Ohio chapter. We have to go back, and it has to be now because I don’t trust that club not to implode without someone to follow.”

“Well, they didn’t do so well when they had someone to follow either, did they?”

I pace the floor, trying to calm myself down. I knew this was coming, so I don’t understand why I feel so panicked.

“Wait, you said Khan was dead. You didn’t say anything about Driller.”

“Driller got away, but he’s been kicked from the club. He can’t hide forever, and when he resurfaces, we’ll catch him.”

I fight the urge to throw up all over him. “You have no idea what he’s capable of.”

“He won’t get near you, Lola.”

I stare out the window at nothing. The peace I hadn’t realized I’d found in the last week shattered the moment he said we were going home. “Okay.”

“Lola?”

I turn to look at him, but I can feel myself shutting down. Maybe it isn’t just the thought of heading back while Driller's at large. Maybe it’s the shame and embarrassment I feel knowing Hannibal will now have a front-row seat to my humiliation.

“You knew this was going to happen.”

I nod rapidly, not trusting myself to speak. Swallowing, I walk over to the clothes I discarded earlier. In somewhat of adaze, I don’t worry about getting undressed in front of him. It’s not like he hasn’t seen it before, anyway.

I walk to the bathroom and redo the messy bun I pulled my hair into earlier. Gripping the counter, I close my eyes and remind myself that I can do this. If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s survive.

Looking around the room, I sigh when I realize that nothing is mine. I leave everything where it is, unsure if I need to pack for him. Walking back into the room, I pause when I find Hannibal standing right outside the door, waiting for me.

“Do you want me to pack for you?”

“I’m a big boy. I can pack a bag and get the prospects to pack up the rest and send it down.”