Page 26 of Cruel Devil

His face is starting to redden, his jaw ticking with rage. Watching him unravel like this is terrifying. More so, because we both know every word is true.

“But you were too fucking volatile for shit like that, weren’t you? Even boxing was too tame for you.”

I point a finger at him. “That bitch had it coming after what she said to?—”

“You put her in the hospital.”

Savage’s hand slides away from my thigh. His face has lost all expression, his body taut, as if he’s readying himself to stand up.

And what? Leave?

I shove his leg. “If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the fucking kitchen, Papi.”

Savage says nothing, does nothing. It’s like he’s switched off.

“You had a choice, Nyx,” Liam says. “You chose violence.”

“It was my last job. Ever. That money was our golden ticket to a new life.” My voice is going hoarse, like I’ve been shouting all day. “I did it for them. Everything I’ve ever done, was for them.”

“A new life?” Savage murmurs, tilting his head to look at me from the corner of his black eyes. “What made you think you could escape the mob, Angel?”

My eyes are dangerously close to falling out of their sockets. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

The Brennan’s are Irish. Maybe my dad was too, I don’t know. We were really young when he died, and although I knew Mom pined for him all the time, she hardly ever spoke about him. Around here, you’re pretty much defaulted into the mob unless you put up a fight. I assumed Dad had put up a fight, that’s why we weren’t in the mob. Patrick and Liam? They were the fucking Brennans. Fighting was in their blood.

How the fuck could I have been so naive?

Just because I never saw suitcases of money being passed around at the boxing club, or men in dark suits having intense conversations with the Brennan’s in the diner down the road, I assumed their noses were clean?

Liam rolls his eyes at me like he’s listening to my thoughts.

“Come on, Nyx. Did you honestly think Donny just had a lot of enemies or something?”

“Lack of curiosity is one of my specialties,” I mutter.

“Who was he reporting to?” Savage asks.

“Someone high up.” Liam looks as cagey as he sounds, head low, half the beer bottle’s label torn to shreds on the carpet at his feet.

“Don’t be coy,” Savage warns quietly. “Is it O’Brien?”

I want to ask my husband how the hell he seems to know more about the Brennans than I do, but I’m too busy watching his exchange with Liam like I’m in the crowd at Wimbledon. I guess, being in a cartel, you’d kinda have to know what the mob was up to in the same town.

Liam gives a single, grudging nod.

“Fuck.” Muscles cord over Savage’s jaw as he looks away, a disgusted twist to his mouth.

“Who the fuck is O’Brien?” I say through clenched teeth.

“Sullivan O’Brien.” Liam’s mouth curves up in a mirthless smile that sends an icy wave through my body. “If I hadn’t punched him, he’d have fucked you in front of everyone.”

Bile rushes up my throat, but I swallow it down as ruthlessly as I fight the sudden surge of panic that follows. Savage whips his head to look at me again, but I stare ahead with all my willpower, mentally begging Liam to shut the fuck up. I don’t know why I want to keep this fragment of my past hidden from Savage. Because I’m ashamed? I was an idiotic, reckless kid, I didn’t fucking know better.

“Thank God I’d been watching.” Liam shakes his head. “What were you, nineteen? Eighteen? Who the fuck knows what he’d have done? Sullivan’s a sick fuck, Nyx.”

“Don’t recall you mentioning you knew the clan chief of the Irish mob,” my husband grates out through his teeth, the comment aimed at me. “Especially the part where you fucked him.”

“Almost!” I stab a righteous finger at Savage. “Almost fucked him. And I had no idea who he was.”

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