Page 27 of Unveiled

“Good. Decide which one is the least useful before I get there,” I command him before hanging up the phone. As soon as the call ends, I dial the next person I need to talk to.

“I’m going out. Watch her and make sure she’s safe.” With the instructions given, I end that call, too.

I rush up the steps to grab a shirt, but as I’m walking back down the hall with my shirt half on, I stop at Ainsley’s door. There’s no sound coming from the other side, but I know she’s still in there. I want to walk in and tell her I’m leaving, but right now, that’s her sanctuary. She doesn’t want me in it.

With a sigh, I finish pulling the shirt over my torso and stomp back down the steps and out the door, leaving my relationship drama behind for now. Now it’s time to give into the anger.

“Tell me, were you one of the men that enjoyed watching my girl get a beating for nothing more than speaking?”

It’s a rhetorical question. I don’t really care if he witnessed that, all I care about is him working for Guerra. As the knife shines in the light while I twirl it around, inspecting the details on the handle, the pathetic excuse of a man in front of me tries to spit out an answer.

“N-no, I was n-never in the c-compound,” he stutters as his eyes track the motion of the knife. He’s so terrified I can practically smell the fear leaking from his pores.

“But you knew about her?”

I’m trying to act as calm as I did when I told Ainsley to leave, but all I really want to do is sink my knife into this man and watch the life bleed out of him. He could be anyone, really, it’s just beneficial for him to be one of Guerra’s men.

“I h-heard that he w-was getting m-married,” he answers. “But the next thing I knew, he was dead.”

The last part comes out clear, letting me know he’s telling the truth. If I were a better man, I might show him some leniency. He didn’t really have anything to do with the torture Ainsley endured.

Unfortunately for him, I’m not much in the mood for leniency.

“You see, that’s my girl,” I inform him, still sounding completely calm. “She was taken from me. Sold to the enemy like a piece of meat. She was beaten daily, just for existing sometimes. If she wasn’t being physically abused, she was being mentally abused. When I finally found her, she was seconds away from jumping off a balcony and killing herself.”

The man in front of me whimpers, knowing what someone who wants revenge sounds like.

“She didn’t jump, and I did rescue her. But, see, the time she spent with your boss ruined her, and she left me. Couldn’t do this life anymore. Now, I’m fighting to win her back. Imagine that, me with a soft side for my girl. Except, she wants none of it. Keeps comparing me to that vile man, and now I’m angry.”

He fights his restraints, but John made sure he was secured to the chair. No matter how much he struggles, he’s not getting out of here.

“You know what I like to do when I’m angry?”

“Please, I had no part in it,” he pleads with me, still trying to fight his restraints.

“Maybe not, but you still should have chosen a different career path.”

As I finish speaking, I launch out of my chair, leading with my fists. I pummel them into his face over and over again, taking pride in the way he swells until he looks like a completely different person.

When my fists ache, I switch to my knife, slashing into his skin. The sight of his bright red blood leaking from various cuts across his body is like therapy to me. As his blood leaks out, my anger goes with it, and I start to feel a little calmer.

After he’s been thoroughly tortured, I cut across his neck, slicing his throat open. He barely even struggles as he bleeds out in front of me.

He might not have deserved such a gruesome death, but Guerra did. And I didn’t get to give it to him. I should have kept him and tortured him for weeks, made him beg for death, but I was more worried about Ainsley.

I’ll always be more worried about Ainsley.

Walking out of the room, I clean my knife on my sweatpants and shove it back into my pocket. I’m covered in blood already, a little more won’t make a difference.

“That was a little gruesome,” John comments as he peaks his head around the corner, catching sight of the scene I just left behind.

I shrug as a response, not really caring about his opinion. I got my anger out, that’s all that really matters at this point. Now I just need to go home and figure out my next steps.

“Call me if you find anything,” I tell John as I walk away, making my way back through the compound and out the door. When I get in my car, I take a minute to type out a quick text.

Me: Ainsley wants to do dinner with you and your parents. I’ll be joining. Give me a day.

I don’t wait for a response as I throw my phone in the cupholder and drive away from the compound, doing my best to leave my anger in the dust behind me.

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