chapter four- mia

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Chapter Four

There are a million other places I'd rather be than here. Unfortunately, there's no way I'll be leaving anytime soon. Thomas seems to think it's too dangerous to let me out on my own for too long as if I'm helpless. Sometimes I think by making me off-limits, he's made me even more of a game to some of these men.

That was made clear by tonight. I definitely froze when that guy grabbed me. Thomas has been protecting me so much that I got too comfortable. I need to be more aware, more on edge. Wade stepped in, thankfully, but things could've gone south quickly.

The room is so loud. Sometimes the sound makes my ears ring, a high-pitched wail pierces my eardrums and renders me stunned. I stand there, at the center of attention, yet somehow still in the background. I feel dazed, out of my body. I think it's a coping mechanism. If I distance myself emotionally, I can't be fazed by the madness surrounding me.

There's blood on the floor. Jesus, there's blood pooling on the floor, fanning out across the concrete. It rolls like a sick crimson wave, consuming every inch of space it can access. My vision blurs, and the headache spreads.

Thomas is so caught up in his games. I'm surprised he notices the welt on my arm between fights. As soon as he sees it, he can make out the clear handprint easily. His voice is casual, but I can see his rage. A muscle in his jaw ticks.

I shrink away from him, pressing my arm into the material of my shirt. It's too late. He's already caught a glimpse of the injury. I hope he would overlook it, but it was stupid to ever assume he could.

"What happened?" Thomas asks.

He knows. I don't even have to say it for him to know.

"Some guy," I answer. "It was an accident."

His eyes narrow. "That doesn't look like an accident."

Thomas faces the horde of people, silencing them with his stare. All the laughter dies. The devil has spoken, and he means business. Gone are the minutes of twisted "fun" for Purgatory's demons.

"My baby sister has a mark on her arm, and I know someone here must be responsible," Thomas thunders. "There are cameras rigged all over this place, so don't make me go through the footage to find out who did it. Come forward now, or I will make this slow and painful."

I know what happened the last time someone touched me, and I'm scared out of my mind. There's no chance my brother is going to let this go, and whatever comes next is going to mean someone gets hurt, or worse.

The man who grabbed me comes forward shamefully. "Sir, I'm so sorry. I had no idea she was your sister—"

"What's your name?" Thomas interrupts.

"Frank," he answers.

Thomas quiets him by raising a single finger. "Is this how you treat a woman? Do you think it's okay to grab any woman like this?"

Frank curls in on himself. "No, sir."

"On your knees," Thomas orders, gesturing to the floor. "Now."

I swear Frank is about to piss his pants. Still, he does what he's told. "I made a mistake. It won't happen again."

Thomas's lips quirk into a sinister smirk. "Oh, I know it won't."

Lucifer is judge, jury, and executioner. He is the beginning, middle, and end.

The sentence has been served.

Frank doesn't want to die, but he knows he's going to. I know the bloodlust in Thomas, and I see the fear in Frank. When Thomas pulls his gun out, I tense up, waiting for a bang that never comes. Instead, Thomas clicks the safety off and holds his favorite pistol out to me.

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