Going Under

"Where are you?" I ask Isabella on the phone once I'm in my car, playing with the bottle of inhibitors in my hand, "I got what you asked for."

"Oh, that’s perfect. I'm having breakfast with a friend, can you come pick me up and take me home?" she asks. I start the car immediately because of course I will do whatever the fuck she asks of me.

"What about the Bentley? And where are you?"

"In a restaurant called Montelor, next to the shopping center. I left the Bentley right where you left it. I told you, I hate driving," she says in a bored tone, "Anyway, come get me in around twenty minutes, yeah? Thanks, babe.”

She ends the call before I can say anything else, like the Ice Queen she is.

I snort a laugh and shake my head before heading towards the shopping center to get my mate because, apparently, I’m nothing but her chauffeur and errand boy.

This is a new experience for me, being treated like someone’s employee or some shit. People in this pack know better than to mess with me, but