Page 131 of Manic

He fucking bit me.

Manic poked his head out, a grin plastered to his mouth, but his hands slid beneath my shirt. His shirt. He pinched my nipple, and my back arched, my eyes rolling. God.

He kissed my neck.

“Did you take care of your loose end?” I asked breathlessly, now fighting my arousal.

“Yes.”

“What was it⁠—”

“Hush, and I promise to fuck you,” he said against my ear, then silenced my creeping protest with his mouth.

Promises. I loved his promises.

Only because I knew he hated making them, but he made them for me. And knowing that sent a blazing inferno throughout my body as he deepened our kiss. His tongue swept over mine, the weight of him settling on top of me, and I answered with a throaty moan.

Manic made true on that promise, because he fucked me until we were both exhausted and crashed for a few more hours. I was glad for it since he hardly slept, so I made no complaints when he curled his arms around me and dozed off.

When we finally rose early afternoon, we continued our typical routine of working for Ronan.

I mindlessly sifted through casino paperwork, having no interest in completing my tasks, while Manic monitored screens and warehouses and hacked into systems. I might be leaving soon, but that didn’t mean I wanted to continue working for Ronan.

Technically, my job here was complete.

Even though Manic seemed more level than he had been the last few weeks, I knew my upcoming release was weighing on him since our confrontation off the highway. I saw it in the dark circles beneath his eyes and his short responses. I pushed it aside, only because it was a conversation I wanted to avoid, too. It meant that I would still be leaving—that he would still be leaving.

“Have you planned on talking to Ronan yet?” I asked quietly, staring at his back.

His typing ceased for a few seconds before continuing, remaining fixed on his screen, like he refused to look at me.

“Tomorrow,” was all he said.

My stomach flipped. Would Ronan really allow me to leave this place without being traded? I highly doubted it, but I hoped there was a way to persuade him.

I straightened when the elevator doors opened. As soon as the resounding thud of boots beat on the kitchen floor, Manic had already snatched a manila folder and darted down the steps.

Axell stepped in and caught my eyes.

His frame drooped and shadows circled his eyes, but he offered me a tight smile before nodding to Manic. They said nothing, but Manic followed him to the balcony for privacy. Goosebumps pricked my skin as their discussion remained hushed but clipped through the glass. I could tell just by the way their mouths moved.

A minute went by, and Axell’s entire body tensed.

I stood from my chair and rested my hands on the railing to watch them from a distance, my brows pinching. Then my phone buzzed, pulling my eyes away from the balcony and to the table. I walked over to look at it, my heart in my throat. My father had texted me.

Dad: We’re excited to see you in a few days.

Air squeezed from my lungs, followed by the deliberate sinking of my stomach at the prospect of seeing my parents.

It wouldn’t be a happy reunion.

And if my father was texting me about my release, he likely didn’t know what Ronan planned to do with me. Unless he did and feigned ignorance. My entire body shook.

Would my father deliver me to Dmitri himself? If he was involved with Ronan, could he be discreetly involved with the Russians, too? My father might not have confessed outright, but he let this happen to me. Besides, I wasn’t even sure I could confront him.

If I was truly being honest with myself, I didn’t want to see him. Not in this lifetime or the next. As far as I was concerned, my father no longer had a position in my life. He was dead to me. My mother, too.

Once I left here, I would find a way to leave Vancouver. Maybe I could find Manic somewhere along the way. The thought, however wild, was enticing.