Bad Wolf (Wild Men 4)

I use the wall as a crutch to get up and lunge for him, sending him slamming into the wall. “Son of a bitch.”

“I don’t need you babysitting me,” he grunts, and tries to punch me, but I twist away just in time. “I told you, I’m valuable to the gang. I don’t need you breathing down my back. Think I don’t know why you joined, why you’re always there? Guess what: I don’t hold you to that stupid promise, Rett, and neither does Mom. So leave us both the hell alone.”

“You don’t speak for her.” I slam him back again, acid churning in my stomach.

“She never really wanted you,” he spits. “Did you know that? She regretted taking you in.”

“Bullshit. You think you’re gonna, what, break me with this? Think you’re being cruel?” I shake him. “I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t care if she never wanted me. I gave my promise to her as a man, and if you’re a man, a promise counts.” I spit a wad of blood on his boot. “Not that you’d know anything about that.”

He growls, and manages to get a hit in, his fist glancing off my jaw, but I’m too angry to feel any pain right now, physical or otherwise.

“You’ll never talk to Gigi again, hear me?” I grab fistfuls of his sweater and snarl in his face. “Never go near her, or I’ll smash your face in.”

He’s scowling now, his smugness gone. “Get your fucking hands off me.”

With an effort, I let go, giving him one last shake before I do, and he lurches out of my hold.

He crosses the living room, grabbing his jacket on his way, then turns and gives me a rictus of a grin, his teeth bloody. “As for your girl, brother, no promises.”

Opening the door, he gets out, and is gone.

Shit. I grab fistfuls of my hair with both hands and resist the urge throw things and to howl out my anger. I can’t fucking believe he had a “talk” with Gigi, that he had the nerve to come here and gloat about it.

That I wasn’t there to make sure he didn’t hurt her.

He said he didn’t. But the cold fear won’t quit. How can I trust he didn’t touch her? Even if he told me the truth, how can I trust his memory when he’s high most of the time?

Fuck my promise. Why should I protect Seb, when it’s others who need protection from him? When Gigi is at his mercy when I’m not around?

But how can I choose her over the family who took me in?

Can I do that? Dangerous, believing I have a choice, when all this time I knew my place, my purpose. All this time… all these past years I thought my purpose was to take care of my family. That’s what I was spared for, what my life is based on.

If I lose that purpose, what have I got left?

Over the next days, I keep myself busy, working my ass off at work, cleaning the apartment, working out with the weights in my room. Wearing myself out.

Hoping the fear for her will fade.

But no such luck. Every time I remember Seb’s words, every time I imagine him with her, I feel fucking sick.

And the nightmares that left me alone for a couple of weeks are now back with a goddamn vengeance, rolling me under, drowning me in dark wells with flashing lights and fangs that snag and tear, and screams that never end.

I need this to stop. Mom’s deterioration isn’t helping any with the way my thoughts are spinning, and Seb turning into a real fucking asshole is doing a number on me.

But above all, it’s Gigi, and my worry about her. There’s no way around it, no matter how I try.

I have to check on her, see she’s okay.

Problem is, I don’t even have her number or her address. She never called me, and after last time, the way she looked at me, the way I reacted… Yeah, what did I expect?

Sitting on my sofa, late at night, eating green beans straight from a can and drunk off my ass, I decide to hunt her down. Ask her, dammit.

So although I avoid social media like the plague, I Google her and find her on Facebook. Creating an account takes a few seconds. I put my name as Rett and shoot her a quick message.

‘Did Seb touch you?’

Just that. All I need to know.