and I stared impassively at Shawn as he dismissed his men and walked over to me with swagger in his gait. He causally flexed his fingers, drawing my attention to the chunky gold rings cladding them as his lips lifted in a smirk. My gaze moved to the leather bracelets on his wrist which he’d taken from me, wearing them to taunt me. There were four of them, one for each of my friends, though I’d never told them that. I’d bought them when I was thirteen at the carnival, the man who sold them some mystic who said they were meant to draw your soulmate to you and bind them to you forever. Back then, I’d seen Fox, JJ, Maverick and Rogue as my soulmates, so I’d bought four of them – much to the guy’s surprise. Though Fox had pointed out later that day, the apparent mystic was just the hobo who slept in that part of town who everyone called Carnival Bill. He’d wrapped himself in a fishing net and had probably stolen the bracelets off of some unsuspecting carnival-goer. Anyway, eventually I’d gotten so attached to wearing them that even as an old, bitter asshole, I still kept them on to this day. Well, I had until Shawn had taken them.
“I’m feeling good today, boy, wanna know why?” Shawn asked and I said nothing.
He moved in front of me, pushing me in the chest so I swung back and forth towards him. “The polite thing to do would be to say yes, boss,” he said, his smile flattening. “So let’s try again. Do you wanna know why, Chase Cohen?”
I spat in his face and his lips split into a sneer before his first fist came at me, striking my ribs, then the next and the next. The rings he wore made each blow ten times more vicious and I clenched my teeth through the pain as he hammered away at my body, splitting the skin more than once. It didn’t matter anyway, I was covered in scars and cuts now, he’d fucked me up good and I was used to this ritual. I’d been trained for it by my father, Shawn was just taking that training to another level.
“You should learn to respect your superiors, pretty eyes,” he snarled. “Or should I call you, pretty eye?” He roared a laugh at his own joke, stepping back as he admired the mess he’d made of me. “Hmm, you need a pirate name now. Cap’n Chase Cohen does have something of a ring to it. If you give up the goods on Fox Harlequin, I’ll be sure to buy you a boat and send you on your merry way.” He waited for me to respond, but I didn’t. “No? Pity. You’re making this real hard on yourself, boy. Harder than it needs to be. Why are you protecting them anyway? They aren’t thinking of you, Chase. They’ve already forgotten all about you.”
My chest tugged and I fought against believing those words, but they sliced deep.
“Yeah,” he said, grinning as he observed my expression. “They didn’t even give you a grave to mourn over, pretty eyes. I thought they might get around to it eventually, but I guess they forgot.”
My throat thickened as I gazed at him, seeing the truth in his eyes. He’d been quick to tell me the Harlequins thought I’d died in The Dollhouse, finding that fucking hilarious apparently. I knew I’d been outcasted and Fox, JJ and Rogue didn’t have any reason to care about me anymore, but it still hurt more than I liked to know they’d moved on from me already.
“You’re a ghost now, I guess,” Shawn purred. “I’m the only person in the world who knows you still exist. So maybe you should make more of an effort with me. I can be quite good fun when I want to be.”
He headed over to grab the wooden chair on one side of the room, pulling it over so it screeched across the floor then placing it in front of me before he sat down. He took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket that had been among the things he’d taken from me when I’d been kidnapped. He lit one up with my Zippo lighter, puffing on the end of it so the smoke coiled around me and made me pine for a taste of it.
“I coulda been a therapist,” he mused. “Always had a way with people.” He tipped his head