Casing ✔️

Chapter 11

My jaw dropped, but I caught it and cleared my throat with a nod. Maybe I'd been a bit judgmental towards Damian, thinking he was just a selfish asshole—but he apologized for ruining James and I's date.

Before I could do anything else, Damian looked at me, and asked, "You coming in, or staying out?"

I had a choice.

My fists clenched and unclenched. I could choose for myself what I wanted to do. No tower to be locked up in, no dad or Hank playing guardian. So I nodded. "I'm coming in."

James' hand went around mine, his fingers pushing open my fist before threading themselves between mine. He leaned down—I could feel his breath by my ear—and whispered, "It might get messy."

My head spun around before I could think twice, and I looked deeply into James' bright, brown eyes. I almost lost my train of thought, but as the steel door squeaked open, I whispered back, "I don't mind a little mess."

What met me when we stepped inside was not what I expected, though I didn't know exactly what that was either. I stared straight at four men, all with their hands bound with zip ties, their mouths covered with duct tape, and blood running down from various places on their faces and heads. It already was messy.

James kissed my fingers gently with his warm eyes meeting mine. Then he smiled, and led me to the wall, letting my hand go as he whispered, "It'll only take a moment."

I somehow doubted that, but I nodded, and I realized that James somehow knew why I wanted to be there to see this fucked up thing happen—as if he knew me that well already.

Behind the four men were two more, though they looked more like guards, like they'd kept them in check while Damian was outside. The whole building seemed to rumble when the soon-to-be boss stepped forward and placed his hands on the table. My hands found the cool, rough wall behind me, and I stepped back until I was as flat as I could against it.

"I wish we had that code still," Damian muttered, "so that for all your lives, I'd also have to take four more."

It was safe to say he was pissed.

James walked around the table. I watched him as I tried my best to keep some inside the torture room—that was what it was, not an office—while I also tried to take it all in. I'd grown up in this world, I knew of everything that happened, but I'd never actually seen it.

It was suddenly so much more real. Especially when James casually pulled the tape off one of the men's mouths. "Care to tell me why I've been called to advise tonight?" he asked, his voice so far from anything I'd heard before.

The man stared at him for a few long seconds. Then he looked at Damian, and back again. He spat at James. I felt bile rise up as I watched the giant ball of spit fly through the air and hit my prince's cheek.

He had no reaction, though. He only wiped it away with his fingers, and then smeared it across one of the other guys' forehead.

The whole room was as cold and silent as I imagined death to be for a long while. Then it turned warmer as James turned towards me with a wink.

"I don't appreciate when my people steal from me," Damian growled, and the warmth disappeared as soon as it came. "You'll pay for those guns, and you'll pay for the drugs, and you'll pay for the time I have to waste looking for new people to trust."

Damian pulled a black pistol from his pants, and held it casually, tilting his head to one side. I couldn't see his face, but I was certain it was as cold and emotionless as the two men on the other side of the prisoners.