Page 62 of Retaliation
“I don’t want a thousand more dresses. I’m not your barbie doll or your whore. I bought this for me, and you’re not fucking ruining it.”
My fists balled as I glared at them. I backed away as Andras stepped toward me.
“We won’t ruin your pretty dress, angel. And don’t you ever call yourself a whore in my presence again. Only we are allowed to do so when your pretty cunt is milking our cocks. Grab whatever you need from your dressing room, but leave the gown on.” His words were more than a command, and I could see in his face any argument would be futile.
I spun on my heels and flipped them off, ignoring the heat building between my thighs at his filthy words. Levi’s loud laughter rumbled as I walked away. I was honestly surprised when none of them followed. I hurried into the room and locked the door. I scanned the vanity and found a small backpack that wasn’t in here before. There was an earpiece in the front pocket, and I shoved it in.
“Zenith?”
“Nova.” Tibby’s voice was clipped.
“What’s wrong?” I frowned. She was never short with me.
The noise of the club around her drifted through the ear piece.
“Everything. Our plans are so fucked.” Her voice quivered with anger I’d only heard from her once or twice in the years we’d been friends.
“Why?”
“Because, pet,” Tibby snarled the word, making me flinch. “Those men are targets, not fuckbuddies. What the hell are you doing?”
I crossed my arms, feeling defensive. “I know they’re targets. But it’s not that simple anymore. Getting to know them…it’s not…they’re like brothers. They care about each other more than anything. More than the stupid cult. They care about me too.”
“Are you serious? So you care more about them and their new feelings for you than you care for your sisters?”
She might as well slap me across the face for the sting of her words. “Tib…Zenith. I-I don’t know what to say.”
She huffed in irritation. “Yeah. Me either.”
This wasn’t right. Tibby was never this short and harsh with me. “What’s really going on? You’re not telling me something.”
Tibby sighed, and I heard a faint sniff. Was she trying not to cry? “My mother is dead. Self-inflicted, supposedly. And my stepdad woke up from his coma and he’s now in the wind.”
I sighed, running my hands through my hair. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Zenith.”
This was all wrong. Her stepdad had been in a coma for months, and the doctors said nothing about him waking up. Tibby kept tabs on him at all times.
“Yeah.” She sniffed, and I could hear the pent up emotions in her voice. “She was a terrible mother, but it still sucks. I have to find him, Nova.”
“And we will.”
“When? I want him dead now. I should have killed him years ago.”
I paced my dressing room, thinking. “Maybe we can.”
The noises faded as Tibby left the club. Wind whistled down the earpiece.
“How?”
“What if we could make him look like an informant and leave clues for the Princes to find, make them go after your stepdad.” I stopped pacing and waited for her response. “He was on that list, remember? Let’s use that.”
Tibby paused for a moment. “No.”
I froze at her blunt refusal. “No?”
“This was supposed to be mine. Mine and yours, everything is about the fucking Princes, and I just want us to do this. I need you, Nova.”
I slumped onto the chaise in my dressing room. Where was this coming from? “You have me, Zenith. Always.”
