Page 72 of Ruthless Reign

“Get off me,” I shouted, kicking against him. He coughed when my heeled shoe connected with his stomach and a sharp crack rang in my ears before I felt the sting on the side of my cheek. Tasted the tang of blood on my tongue.

Everything was dark and faraway for what felt like only a second and when I came back, the sting in my cheek ached like a motherfucker.

Fucking ow.

My mouth tasted like death.

My pulse skyrocketed when I went to feel the wound there and couldn’t move my hands. Either of them. Or my feet. My limbs fought against the zip ties binding them to the chair back and chair legs, but I couldn’t get them free and struggling only made the plastic bite into my wrists and ankles until I felt the skin tear.

“There’s really no sense in struggling,” Séamas said calmly and I whipped my head up, panting, to find him seated in a matching chair, unbound, so close that I pressed my spine flat against the back of my chair to put more distance between us.

“Now, are you going to be a good little Saint and give me what I came for or shall I carve it out of you?”

He twisted a blade between his fingers, grinning at me.

My throat went dry, watching the light flicker off the sharp edge with every rotation.

He’s going to kill you, I thought. Whether you give him whatever information he wants or not, he’s going to kill you.

If I screamed, would someone hear me? Send help?

I swallowed hard and inhaled deeply, ready to let out the loudest siren scream I’d ever let pass my lips, but Séamas’ hand clamped around my throat, squeezing off the sound. My air. Everything.

He squeezed hard enough to bruise until I saw stars, allowing me only enough air to remain conscious as I twisted against his hold, futile trying to escape.

“This visit is purely transactional. Damien has already been punished for his disobedience. I’m a fair man, Miss Hart. If you give me what I came for, I won’t harm you. At least not today. If Damien makes another mistake,” he shrugged. “Well, I make no promises.”

Don’t believe him.

He released me, and I coughed, my throat aching.

“Now, I’m going to need you to tell me what you know about Gilligan’s Finch.”

My brows drew together and Séamas didn’t miss my confusion, his rotations of the blade between his fingers stopped.

Gilligan’s Finch.

No one knew I was there. Aodhán made sure of it.

“Why would I know anything about that?”

The blade snapped out so fast I didn’t have time to react before it sliced along my right cheekbone. I barely felt it at first, until the warmth of my own blood started to drip down to my chin and the sting of the air on the fresh cut made me suck air in through my teeth.

Séamas lifted the blade into the slant of sunlight, watching it drip down the gleaming silver edge like he thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“You see, little Saint, I find it difficult to believe it a coincidence that all in one night?—”

He held up a finger.

“I learned two of my men were stealing from me.”

He held up a second digit.

“My son played judge, jury, and executioner, killing them both before I gave him the order.”

He held up a third.

“And when he went to collect the payment that was due from the Kents later that same evening, the sad little pub had gone up in smoke…with every Kent still inside.”

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