“What happens if I can’t?”

“Like I said, we know all about your close ones. I’m not a fan of doing the dirty work. But if it comes to that, then I will. I’ll do the dirty work, and I think you know exactly what I mean when I say that.”

My stomach churned. I fisted my hands and leaned closer to him, growling out, “If you kill me, how the fuck are you going to get your money then?”

He smiled at my boldness. That fucking gold tooth reflected my distorted, angry face. “Blood is another form of payment, Lawson. You don’t pay it, that’s fine. Your head, along with that pretty girl you’ve been looking after’s head are on the chopping block, and we don’t care. In fact, that’ll just send a statement to the rest of the fucking morons that want to do business with us. So it’s best you just pay up. Like I said, Sunday noon. Be there with the money.”

He patted my back like we were the best of pals and walked off.

I stared down at the piece of paper, half-tempted to tear it to pieces. Just when I thought this night couldn’t get any worse, the skies opened and rained hell down upon me.

For the first time in a very long time, I felt completely and utterly defeated.

Thirteen

Allie

Everything changed.

I woke up and Heath wasn’t there. In fact, he was gone all weekend. I spent two nights on my own, alone, in an apartment that was now tainted by what we had done. I barely slept. Barely ate. Barely did anything at all but lay down and watch mindless television.

Sometime in the early hours of Monday morning, he had returned. I heard loud noises coming from his bedroom. Already having stayed up most of the night, I went to check on him, tip toeing on my way in case he heard me. He was standing in the middle of the room in nothing but his boxers, lifting weights.

He was unsteady, and when I was hit with the thick smell of alcohol, I knew why. He was cursing under his breath, made it to six reps before he angrily threw the weights down. I jumped and took a large step back, surprised the weights hadn’t fallen straight through the floor.

Panting, he ran both hands through his scalp and a pained sound erupted from his throat. He shook his head repeatedly, stumbling as he stepped over the weights. His body slammed into his dresser, and he gripped the edges of it, trembling and taking large gulps of air. My heart broke. I’d never seen him like this. I knew he’d spent two days torturing himself with guilt. I felt responsible. I’d begged him to be with me.

This was my fault.

I stepped in slowly, widening the door. He heard the creaky sounds of my footsteps and turned his head to look at me. His dark eyes were bloodshot and glazed. His skin wasn’t its usual tanned glow but pale and sickly looking. In just two days he looked like he’d lost ten pounds, but I knew that wasn’t possible. This was the look of misery.

My heart picked up as I whispered, “Heath.”

His eyes lapped me from head to toe, and when they lingered around my stomach, I tensed. He was staring at my bump, paling even more.

“Go,” he said, his voice sounding thick and scratchy.

“I can’t leave you like this,” I replied, trying my hardest not to cry. God, things were fucked.

“Go.”

“Heath –”

“I don’t want to see you, Allie. Just go.”

My heart clenched and I swallowed hard, quietly saying, “I just want to help you, Heath.”

That expression turned cold. I saw something like disgust in him when he sneered at me. “Help me? Don’t you think you did enough?”

I looked away from his frosty glare and stared at a random spot on the wall. I was breaking all over. “I… I don’t know what to say about what happened between us –”

“I’m not asking you to say anything. I’m telling you to go.”

I didn’t want to, but when he turned away and didn’t even acknowledge me, I knew it was pointless staying. I left the bedroom, and only a moment passed before he loudly slammed it shut. I sat on my bed for a while, feeling more alone than ever, wondering how on earth my life became this… complicated. I helplessly stared around the room, as if the walls might offer me answers. I wanted desperately to feel sorry for myself. To curl up in a ball and cry my heart out. To have someone run their hand up and down my back, telling me it would be okay.

But I had no one. Just a loner, like always, with the difference being I was tired of it. So I shoved all the emotions down my throat and locked them away. Then I got up and started getting ready for school early. I gathered my stuff and went to the bathroom. I locked myself inside and had a long shower, sitting down in the tub with my back against the spray.

I heard movements. Of him leaving the bedroom and stomping down the hallway. He seemed to be moving around a lot by the time I got up and turned the water off. I stepped out and quickly changed, holding my breath in between my movements to listen in on what he was doing. I didn’t want to cross him on my way out. The tension between us had risen to a boiling point, and I was petrified of a confrontation if it involved curses and angry words.

I threw my wet hair up and gathered my backpack when I heard a crash coming from one of the rooms. I froze and listened in on Heath’s curses and grunts as more chaotic sounds erupted.

What the hell?

I opened the bathroom door and tentatively walked out. Another crash sounded and I followed it to my room where I found him, standing in the centre with a steel bat in hand. He was swinging at the headboard of the bed repeatedly until it splintered and broke. My breath caught in my throat as I watched him destroy whatever he could, taking down the dresser after he’d annihilated the bed, and tearing down the posters.

I was taken aback by how violent he looked. He was still dead tired, looked like a damn phantom gone wild in nothing but his boxers. His sweaty skin spoke of how hard he’d been at it. I stopped at the threshold and looked at every inch of the room, distraught to find countless items of Ryker’s destroyed and littering the floor.

In just twenty minutes since I’d been out of the room he had completely obliterated it.

“What are you doing?” I let out in a panic.

He stopped abruptly and turned to me. He was surprised to see me there. His red eyes widened and his hand clutching the bat suddenly dropped to his side.

“What are you doing?” I repeated, hysterically.

His face may have softened at the sight of me, but those eyes were harder than ever. “What’s it look like?” he retorted in between his panting.