Page 136 of Addicted

A dark smile spread across my face.

“Good,” I said.

Indie pulled back and looked at me, her eyes wide. She knew what that meant. Knew what I was about to do. But she didn’t say anything. She didn’t try to stop me because she knew that nigga deserved everything he had coming.

I sat up in the bed, wincing as pain shot through my shoulder.

“Stone, you need to rest,” Indie said, her voice worried.

I gave her a look. It was the kind of look that said I wasn’t about to argue with her on this. She rolled her eyes but didn’t push it.

Kenzo cleared his throat. “I can drive Indie back to the estate,” he offered. “Make sure she gets home safe.”

Indie’s head snapped toward me. “I don’t want to leave you.”

I reached out and cupped her face in my hand.

“You need to get home to Ishmael,” I said firmly. “And you need to be in a safe, relaxed environment after what you just went through.”

My tone made it clear this wasn’t up for discussion. Indie stared at me for a long moment, her jaw tight. But she knew better than to argue with me when I used that voice.

“Fine,” she said quietly.

I pulled her down and kissed her slow and deep, pouring everything I felt into that kiss. When I pulled back, I looked into her eyes.

“I’ll be home soon,” I said.

Indie nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She hugged me one more time, then climbed off the bed and followed Kenzo to the door. Before she left, she looked back at me.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you too, baby,” I said.

And then she was gone.

I sat there for a minute, letting the silence settle around me. Letting the rage build. Then I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Pain shot through my shoulder, but I ignored it. I’d been through worse.

I walked over to the chair where someone had left a clean black t-shirt and a pair of jeans. I got dressed slowly, gritting my teeth against the pain.

When I was done, I walked out of the room and into the warehouse. The main floor was mostly empty, just a few of my soldiers standing guard. They nodded at me as I passed, their faces respectful. I walked through the warehouse, my footsteps echoing on theconcrete floor, and then I reached the back room.

Antoine and Deacon were standing outside the door, armed and alert. When they saw me, they straightened up.

“Boss,” Antoine said.

I nodded at them. “Leave.”

They didn’t hesitate or ask questions. They just turned and walked away.

I pushed open the door and stepped inside. The room was small and windowless. A single lightbulb hung from the ceiling, casting harsh shadows on the walls.

In the center of the room, tied to a chair, was Wes. He looked like shit. His face was pale and covered in sweat. Blood had soaked through the makeshift bandage on his side where I’d shot him. He was barely hanging on, but he had enough life left in him for me to make him suffer.

When he saw me, his eyes widened, and then he glared. “Fuck you, Stone,” he spat, his voice weak.

I walked toward him slowly, my hands in my pockets.

“Nah, nigga. Fuckyou.You should’ve never fucked with Indie,” I said, my voice cold. “And youdefinitelyshould’ve never fucked with my unborn child.”