His Greatest Liability

chap 1

Rory

I hold the phone between my ear and shoulder as I peer through the open tiled space, checking beneath each of the stalls to make sure I'm the only person occupying the bathroom at the moment. "How are you settling?" Jeremiah's chilling tone sends a shiver racing down my spine. "Well, I'm assuming, since you haven't called."

I tongue my cheek, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. "Sorry," I swiped my fingers beneath my swollen eyelids, blinking as slow as possible to avoid the pain. "I've been—"

"I didn't send you there for shits and giggles, Victoria." He snaps. "You're there because—"

"I know why I'm here." I say dryly. "You haven't given me the chance to forget." I refuse to let myself forget. So much so that I'd written it on a note and stuck it to my notebook.

"Rory," He clears his throat, irritation leaking from his voice. I faintly hear the soft murmur of my mother's voice in the background, and I grind my teeth together, forcing any thoughts of missing her to go away. "Don't fuck this up." My step father's snide tone pulls me back, far away from whatever I was feeling before, and I knead my palms into my shirt.

"I won't." I don't bother to wait for his response before I pull my phone away from my sweaty cheek and hang up.

I feel a lot braver over the phone, knowing that there's this invisible fence separating him from me. He can't get to me here, not even if he tries to. The feeling of triumph stirs in my chest, then goes cold. Jeremiah's fear of the men who run this city won't keep him away for long.

It never does.

I learned that a long while ago.

While my life is built on top of stacks of dirty money, I've always told myself that the rest of it won't contribute to that. I, Rory Chase, am going as far as I can without as much a glance back.

I want to leave this behind me, atone for my sins later, and do whatever the fuck I have to in order to get out. Even if it means dabbling in even more dangerous territory— doing things I have no business doing, and fucking around with people capable of erasing my existence from this very earth.

But here I am, wandering the bathroom of a college campus, doing exactly that.

Slumping against one of the stalls, I tuck my phone into my bralette and tilt my head up towards the ceiling. Tiredness swims beneath my eyelids, and all I want to do is go back to my dorm, take a warm shower, and slide underneath my cheap covers to sleep the night away.

But the truth is, it's not my dorm that I want to go back to. It's home, where my mamma is. Where my plants are, and all my stupid crystals, and my dignity.

When Jeremiah sent me here, it was with all but nothing. A suitcase, a resume with a web of lies printed on it, and a dizzying lick of fear. 

I almost laugh at the irony.

I jumped on a plane at the first sign of freedom— giving fuck all about my nobility, and now I'm all alone in a city storming with people cloaked in organized crime and eyes cold enough to give me frostbite.

I'd done it again and overestimated myself.

This isn't my playing field, but I know that regardless of the threat looming over my head, I'll do whatever I have to. Fears aside, she's more important. I want out, and that's exactly what the fuck I'm getting. And then afterwards, I'm going to go far away.

My eyes sting as the familiar taste of loneliness clogs the back of my throat, making it hard to breathe for a few seconds. I bite into my cheeks until that yucky thing in my throat is replaced by metallic, coppery blood.