Page 112 of Wallflower

Maximus shoves off the wall, moving toward me with slow calculated steps. “He fucked her,” he hisses. “And she thought it was you coming back to say goodbye.” He stands beside me, leaning over to finish his fucking taunt. He knows I want to kill them both. But he’s only allowing me one. My suffrage brings him joy, it’s why he’s doing this. Spilling everything. “She moaned your name, so he stitched her lips shut. Never to moan another’s name ever again.”

A shot fires. My finger tight on the trigger making the decision for me. Samuel drops, writhing in agony as he cradles his knee.

“She ran because of him. Wound up in here, punished, because he couldn’t follow orders,” Maximus breathes far too close to me.

“She was mine!” Samuel bellows through the pain. “My fucking Rosie!”

I don’t fucking think so.

Squeezing off another shot, the bullet passes clean through Samuel’s flip-flop, blowing off his big toe.

He screams with ear-piercing agony, and I huff in his torment like the smoke from the calming weed I smuggle.

“Fuck,” Bradley exhales, shuffling in the direction of the door.

Quick as lightning, I fire again. Just missing Bradley’s boot inching across the floor. “Don’t fucking move,” I snarl.

Maximus chuckles darkly. “Your flower’s withered and died because of them. Make your choice, Mr. Morgan. Who lives and who dies?”

He must see the torment scrawled across my face because he leans ever closer, his voice baiting me like a worm on a hook. “Samuel may have broken her body, but Bradley was breaking her mind, piece by piece, night by night. A slow and torturousdescent into a pit of despair she was never going to crawl out from.”

Not true. Not true. Not true.My mind chants like a mantra. She was fine here. Surviving because she’s so fucking strong.

“He almost killed her. Twice.”

My thoughts start to cloud. A weight settling over me so insurmountable I cannot bear it.

Guilt.

I cast my sight toward Rose, dangling and lifeless. My eyes start to burn.

Max’s hand lands over mine, guiding the gun to aim on her. “Maybe the problem isn’t my men, Mr. Morgan. Maybe it’s her. Love’s made you soft—weak,” he spits the last word like he detests the very feel of it on his tongue. “I don’t work with men like that. Like you. Make your choice.”

I don’t fucking love her. Love’s an ugly, dreadful emotion. It twists those that feel it into vile, ruthless monsters, all in the name of love. It’s cruel, calculating, and manipulative. People do horrible things in the name of fucking love.

Love doesn’t describe what I feel for Rose. It’s light, and heat, and passion. Open arms and untainted happiness.

A wet, rasping breath escapes through a sliver of room between my flower’s lips.

The death rattle.

She’s left me for good.

There’s no reason for me to lose this deal on top of her. No longer will I be torn in different directions, head fogged up and chest tight, the tether back to her wound so unyielding I can’t fucking breathe properly when she’s not near.

If I’m fucking free, why does it feel as though I’ve been eviscerated?

The gun’s heavy, the emotions plaguing me heavier.

Guilt. Shame. Despair.

“Is our deal still on?” I snarl, glaring over my shoulder to Maximus.

“Seems moot since she’s departed, and you haven’t delivered on your end.”

I smile with a sickening edge.

“Or maybe you have?”