Page 24 of Slaughter

I ignore that statement. “What’s it gonna be, Preston? Her blood is already on your hands.” He tries to stand on his one good leg from the chair, but my men grab his shoulders and shove him back down to his ass. “Now it’s up to you how she spends what time she has left.”

“Sir?” Kayn’s voice comes through the phone. “The package is secure.”

Piece of cake. “Four weeks, Preston.” I then turn my back on him, pick up my phone, turn it off speakerphone, and place it to my ear, walking out into the early morning night. “No one touches her but me. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

_______________

I sit in my study back in Vancouver with a glass of scotch on my desk. My younger brother lounges in the chair across from me. The crackling of the wood in the fireplace fills the room. Doesn’t matter what time of year it is, I always have it burning. “You sure you wanna do this?” Tristan asks, breaking the silence.

“It’s already done.”

He sighs, but I ignore it, hoping he’ll drop the subject. He doesn’t. “Let’s not forget that it’s Presleigh. One, you guys were in love. Two, now you guys hate one another. And three, any bitch being here day and night would be a problem. There’s a reason we sleep with nothing but whores.” He takes a drink of his scotch.

“You fuck whores.” I don’t pay for sex.

He ignores me just as easily and continues. “You’ve never lived with a woman before, and now you’re moving her in here with you like she’s your fucking wife.”

“Slave,” I correct him.

He rolls his eyes, not believing me. “Come on, Avery. You can’t fool me.”

“What do you suggest I do?” Not like I really care.

“Break her neck and throw her into the Mediterranean Sea. Let the sharks swallow what’s left of Preston’s family.” He takes another drink. “She’s gonna do nothing but cause problems.”

“I can handle her.”

He snorts.

That’s the difference between me and my brother. He prefers the easy way, and I don’t. “Plus, that means what I told Preston was an empty threat.”

He shrugs. And tosses back his drink. “So?”

“So? What’s the point of making a threat if you don’t follow through with it?”

We are ruthless. Soulless. We make those who fuck us, pay—with their lives. Our father taught us that respect should be earned, and we have done things to make sure we get that.

He looks up at me with no emotion in his blue eyes. “She’s gonna die regardless. If not by you, then Damon will …”

I lift my hand to stop him, and he obeys.

“I can do it for you,” he offers when I don’t say anything.

My eyes narrow on him. “Don’t fucking touch her.” She’s mine. She always has been and always will be. That’s why I chose to take her when I did. Damon doesn’t deserve her. I do!

He rolls his eyes. “I’m just trying to help you. I’ve seen you kill without blinking. And if you don’t plan on bluffing …” He spreads his hands out wide. “Then you have to kill her.”

“I will. When I’m finished with her,” I say through gritted teeth. That could be years down the road.

I haven’t been able to get that look on her face out of my head. The way her glassy eyes looked at mine and how her soft hands gripped my shoulders. It was as if I had been dead for the past eleven years and she brought me back to life.

It’s fucking pathetic!

I take a drink of my scotch.

It proved that, after all this time, she still wanted me. And I plan on giving her what she wants. I’m going to fuck her until she’s a crawling, sobbing mess. But this time will be different. I’m calling the shots.

---