Fang 29

Fang

“Gypsy?” Hansel asked the moment I flopped down onto one of the bar stools. I let my head drop into my hands.

“Asleep,” I murmured.

That conversation had been one of the hardest I had ever had to have, but not as hard as having to hold her as she sobbed herself to sleep. Gypsy was always so strong, a bright light in my darkness. To see her totally and utterly destroyed killed something inside of me.

“Finally,” I added.

Something must have shown in my face, or maybe it was my tone, but Hansel's face swung towards me, his eyebrows crashing down and deepening the line between his eyes.

“How bad is it?”

“Bad,” I mumbled. I couldn’t even explain it to him, although I would have to, and soon. “Really fucking bad.”

“Darcie and Iris kind of bad?”

I mulled over his question. Was it that type of bad? Gypsy wasn’t on some crime family’s radar, she had never been trafficked and forced to sell her body against her will, so I guessed it wasn’t quite that bad. But it was still...unfortunate.