[𝐌𝐱𝐌]
"I want you, badly," he says with pleading eyes.
"Oh yeah?" I cock an eyebrow.
I watch as he swallows nervously, not knowing what my next words will be. It's not often that I taunt him like this, but when I do, he doesn't know what to expe...
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Wednesday, August 17th
The guards in front of the door bow as we approach the residence, and one of them opens the door to allow us through. I trudge inside with Dawson, heading down the main hall. The others are sitting all around the living room and Hazel shoots up from the couch to run over to me.
"Are you okay? You hurt?" She looks me up and down, checking for wounds.
"I'm fine, this one isn't though." I nod towards Dawson, who looks like he could almost pass out.
Hazel shrugs. "That sucks." She goes back to her spot on the couch next to Harlow.
"I'm so glad that you're concerned for me," Dawson says sarcastically with his head down.
"Why would I be?"
"I pay you."
"Grayson, take care of Dawson before we talk, would you?" Sage peeks around the corner from the hallway leading to the kitchen.
I start walking Dawson towards the direction of his room and he walks with heavy steps along next to me. I open the door and sit him down on the bed. Then, I take my arms off him.
"Antiseptics?" I ask.
"Underneath the sink." He slowly peels the cloth off his stomach.
I proceed to make my way to the bathroom. I open the drawers underneath the sink and begin to search for the first-aid kit. It stands out in the back and I grab it, closing the drawer. I open the box as I walk back over to Dawson.
I sit with my legs crisscrossed on the bed and Dawson turns slightly so I can reach his wound. I lift up his shirt just enough so that I can see it. It isn't too deep, but it'll definitely scar.
"That fucker was sneaky," he says as I inspect the wound.
I glance up at him. "You couldn't dodge a little knife?" I taunt.
He rolls his eyes. "It was up his sleeve. I would've dodged if I knew it was there."
"Right, sure." I dismiss him.
I know that he easily could have. From what I saw earlier, Dawson is the type that likes to play with his opponents rather than subduing them quickly. It seems that most of the time, no one even has the chance to land a hit on him.
I did that day back in the warehouse, but I'm sure that was only because I caught him off-guard, just like Mateo did today. Believe me, I had learned my lesson shortly after.
"Hold." I order, and Dawson takes the shirt from my hand.
I use an antiseptic wipe to rub the semi-dry blood from his skin. As I start to get closer to the open-wound, Dawson moves back slightly to avoid it.
