Page 134 of Bastian

My heart once felt like it was dead inside my chest, but here I am now.

Alive and so very blessed.

Loved.

Nodding. “Vivi for short. It has a nice ring, don’t you think?”

Sebastian nods in agreement. Then bends down, grabs a piece of chocolate, and hands it to me. “Perfect for her. Now feed my baby.”

Rolling my eyes playfully, I take the chocolate from his hand and pop it into my mouth. With my mouth full, I say, “Ours, Sebastian. Our baby.”

“Ours…” He breathes out before kissing my lips again.

Ours has never sounded better.

BASTIAN

HANDSOME DEVIL

“Tell me how you hate me.” — A

“Looking sharp, Mr. President.” The rough accented voice of one of Thiago Sandoval’s men, Armando, greets me as soon as I step foot inside the dirty, rundown building where he usually handles business when he’s in the city.

And when I say handle business I mean as in someone is getting whacked.

“Armando, ¿cómo estás?” I replied in perfect Spanish.

The man grins. “Todo bien, jefe. Ya veo que tu español ha mejorado.”

Picking an invisible lint off my suit jacket, I shrug. “Un poco. Quiero poder mandar al carajo a tu jefe en su idioma natal.”

Laughing, he steps back, moves towards the side doors, opens them, and shoves a man with his hands tied behind his back and a hood over his head into the room. His black clothes are covered in blood and filth. “Be nicer to the boss, si? He sent you a welcome back to life present. Well… what’s left of him.”

Shrugging out of my suit jacket, I hand it to Banning and signal him to stay back as I step farther inside the room, towards where Armando has the man my team has been searching for months.

Inhaling, I notice that with every step I take further into the room, the putrid smell of torture becomes stronger.

Fuck, it reeks of blood, urine, and excrement.

“The boss had fun with this cunt before handing him over. Apparently, Hank here makes enemies everywhere he goes. Enemies that were way too willing to give him up.” Armando walks over to me and nods. “Here you go, man.” He shoves the silent man to the ground. “Pick your poison.”

I silently walk over to a table on the left, where there’s a rope, a gun, and a butcher knife.

I’ve been daydreaming about this moment since I woke up from the coma. A coma this son of a bitch put me in when he shot at me in the chest. I lost almost four months with my child and Arianna because of this lowlife, and as much as that infuriates me and fills me with hate towards this useless cunt, the thought that he aimed a gun towards Arianna’s direction enrages me more than the damage he caused me. It has me seeing red.

Choosing the butcher knife, I turn back to the man kneeling in the center of the room. He’s shaking his head, but the hood prevents me from seeing his face, so I remove it. I remove it so my face will be the last thing he sees before I send him straight to hell. The second his eyes register who is standing before him, his eyes grow big in recognition and… fear.

Annoyed by his muffled screams, I pull down his gag.

“You motherfu—” No. I refuse to listen to this stupid cunt. Pulling the gag over his mouth again, I almost laugh when the imbecile falls face down and tries to wiggle his way across the floor. “Kevin Voight…” Tsk. I stay in place, just watching the snake slither across the room, trying to escape as if he could. As if I would let him walk out of here with his life after he endangered the life of the woman I love. “I could ask you why and who paid you to come after me, but you will only lie to my face. And I hate liars. Besides, we both know why you did it. Croix Jameson, correct?”

The man screams, but again the screams are muffled by the gag.

So I continue playing with my prey.

“You’re a cop, yes? Fifteen years on patrol. Squeaky clean record? A good cop. A stupid man but a good cop. You’re also a man who disagrees with my decision to pardon the life of the criminal who murdered a fellow cop, correct?” Voight screams quietly, but his heavy breathing is the only indication that he’s listening. “So you took it upon yourself to track me down and shoot at me. Shoot at my woman…” Walking forward, I kick him in the side, knocking him to his back. “You aimed your gun at me where I was standing with an innocent woman who had nothing to do with my decision, and you pulled the trigger and opened fire, not caring if she was a casualty.” The fucker screams, and it only makes this all the much sweeter.

I do not enjoy blood.

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