“For the record, I didn’t tell her to write that,” I say as I approach.
He swivels in my direction, resting his arms on his knees and hanging his head. “I know,” he grits out, still sounding pissed.
“You gonna let her get away with it?” I ask, just to poke the bear.
“Fuck off, Ford.”
His retort lacks its usual bite, which only confirms my suspicions. Ava’s worked herself all the way under his skin, fucking with his head in ways he hasn’t even fully grasped yet.
Raf shoves up to his feet with a heavy sigh, rolling his neck on shoulders to alleviate the tension in his muscles as he starts for the rack of free weights along the wall.
“So what’re you gonna do?” I ask as I move to follow him, genuinely curious. “How are you gonna punish her for writing that shit?”
He shoots me a dark look that promises retribution. “Don’t ask me right now.”
“Fine.” I step over to lean against the wall, watching as he paces back and forth along the weight rack like a caged animal. “How ‘bout I get you a fight to burn off some of that aggression, then,” I offer.
He grunts in affirmation, bailing on the free weights and pacing back over to the weight bench. Settling in underneath the bar again, he grips on and starts another furious set of reps.
I admire his dedication, but he’s gonna kill himself if he keeps pushing this hard in an effort to contain his anger. There’s something dangerous about the way he’s currently struggling to keep it together– it reminds me of how he was after his first kill order, always on the edge of losing his shit completely. Back then, he was smaller, weaker. Now he looks like a fucking monster, and I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to keep him in check if he gets it in his head to take everything he wants by force.
I’m also not sure I’ll be able to stop myself from grabbing the popcorn and watching when that finally happens.
Raf’s chest heaves with exertion as he pumps the weight bar over and over, glaring up at the ceiling like the tiles wronged him somehow. I can practically see the wheels in his head turning as he stews over an appropriate punishment for Ava. Our delicate little Doll is in for it– I’ve never seen him so out of control, not even when his mother was dying and he hulk-smashed the hospital waiting room when his dad said he wasn’t coming to witness her final breaths.
Propping myself up against the wall with a shoulder, I shove a hand into my pocket and pull out my cigarette pack, lighting one up in defiance of the ‘No Smoking’ signs the janitorial staff keep hanging in here.
Dare them to say something about it to my face.
“Want me to see if I can get you a match next week?” I ask absently, digging a hand into my pocket to pull out my phone.
The door to the weight room bursts open and Wes storms through to join us, looking way too irritated for someone who just blew his load while licking our girl to orgasm.
Given Raf’s current spiral, we should probably keep that between us for now.
“The fuck’s wrong with you?” I ask Wes, arching a curious brow.
He scowls back at me, stabbing his fingers through his hair. “Getting real sick of fielding texts from the plebs about the setup for the Halloween party.”
“Halloween party?” I echo, taking a long drag from my cigarette and exhaling the smoke in his direction.
Wes’ lip curls in disgust– probably more at my lack of priorities than the plume of smoke. “Yeah, Ford.Halloween.It’s this weekend, in case you’ve forgotten.”
I shrug. “So? That shit’s been planned for months. Aren’t we just doing the same thing as last year?”
Wes rolls his eyes. “Yes, but they need direction. We don’t want a repeat of the fucking glitter incident.”
I snort a laugh, recalling how many showers it took for him to get that shit out of his hair. Glancing over at Raf, I expect him to at least crack a smile, but he just keeps right on lifting.
“You should make someone else take point on it,” I murmur absently, puffing on my cigarette while watching the weight bar rise and fall in a steady rhythm. “Not that it matters. All you need for a good Halloween party is a shitload of booze and girls in slutty costumes who are down to fuck.”
“Pretty much,” Wes snickers, giving Raf a sidelong glance. “You gonna chime in here, bro?”
The Halloween party is typically Raf’s favorite of the year– let’s be real, a haunted house is just an excuse to scare the shit out of people for sport– but right now, he couldn’t seem less interested.
I roll my eyes as I stub out my cigarette on the wall, turning my phone over in my hand. “I’ve gotta get him a fight ASAP,” I mutter, opening up my text thread with Benny. “Once he–”
My words abruptly trail off as my phone rings with a distinctive tone, the caller identified by a single crow emoji.
