Knife's Property

E I G H T

Another update to celebrate the bank holiday (for those in the U.K.)

Happy reading! 

The moment Knife left me at the apartment and locked it extra tight, I got into bed and curled into a ball.

I went over the events that transpired earlier over and over and over again. First, the situation with Brandon. As sick as it sounds, I was hoping for the murdering of a few of the Untamed Lion MC members would stop his need to go and find Brandon and slit his throat. I had heard rumours about the Untamed Lions, they were not nice people. Women were often found limping from their compound, a haunted look in their eyes that took days, sometimes weeks to fully leave. I never really saw them, I didn't know what any of the members looked like, but I knew their logo. A roaring lion, blood dripping from its bared fangs and it's mane big and proud.

On top of worrying about Knife going after a classmate for merely smiling at me and touching my arm, I then worried about Shelby. Knife assured me she wouldn't be a problem, that she was smart enough to stay away from us. I didn't think it was a coincidence that she had been humiliated and terrified by Knife on the same night the Untamed Lions got personal with their graffiti. Evelyn knew more club gossip than me and she had told me about all of the issues the Untamed Lions were giving us, graffitiing buildings we frequented, squaring up to prospects for no reason and then trying to interfere with club business.

I had seen something in Shelby as Knife threatened her. She was terrified, that much was obvious, but there was still that underlying anger simmering under the surface at being spoken to like he spoke to her. She didn't take that kind of action lightly and I was sure she had run along to the Untamed Lions for some protection and to stir a little trouble. Knife had dismissed me when I tried to bring this up, cutting me off with a sharp nip to my ear and a tightening grip around my throat.

I finger my throat, I could still feel calloused hand wrapped around my throat like a warning, a promise. He never failed to miss an opportunity to warn me that I was his, his to control and do whatever he pleased with to me.

I can't shake the look in his eyes as he stared down at the piece of art that adorned the ground outside of the compound. Goosebumps broke out across my skin, and I rubbed my arm, my eyes flickering to the bedroom door again.

I don't know how much time had passed since Knife left the apartment, but I did know that I was getting antsier by the second. He took my phone so I couldn't call anyone or convince my dad to break me out of the apartment. I snorted.

As if my dad would go against Knife.

He tried to pretend he wasn't, but Knife scared him, he knew breaking me out of my pretty little cage while my captor went and tortured screams out of the men who thought it was okay to paint a bleeding strawberry onto the ground would mean his death as well.

Well, Knife wouldn't kill him, but he sure would hurt him, both psychologically and physically.

That's my man, I thought drily.

Finally, the sound of movement has me jumping up out of the bed and hurrying towards the door. My socked feet slide along the clean floor as I almost run towards the sound. I skid to a stop at the end of the hallway, my right hand is braced on the wall next to me and my fingers curl into the texture wallpaper as I take in the sight of him.

He looks terrifying.

I didn't notice that it had started to rain but a quick glance out the window to my side proves that it is in fact absolutely pissing it down outside.

His dark hair, which is usually neat and tidy, brushes his forehead more than usual and causes small droplets of water to drip from the tips and onto the ground in tiny little splatters that are heard even from over where I stand. His dark eyes watch me, the untamed anger lighting them up like never before. My legs clenched together, and I stopped breathing.