Page 98 of Cruel Devil

Fuck stabbing him in the eye. I want to use that butter knife to hack away at his tongue until he drowns in his own blood.

“She’s resting. Like Vito said, she’s been under a lot of pressure.”

“I hope she acclimatizes soon,” he says, sitting back and letting his hands slide into his lap. “Cartel life is not for the weak.”

“My wife isn’t weak,” I growl. “She’s devastated that her sisters are in the hands of that lecherous O’Brien.”

You’d need a chainsaw to cut the tension between me and my uncle. Not sure why Vito thinks he could simmer us down with a redirect.

“Dad, did Doc mention anything about Bryan’s test results?”

Sergio is still looking at me when he replies, “No, son. Not a word.”

My eyes are in slits. “Did he even run any tests?”

Sergio purses his lips. Gives a small shake of his head. “No.”

“Why the hell not?”

He spreads his hands. “Why don’t you ask your father, son?”

It’s been building since the moment Vito sent me that text. But the twitch of Sergio’s mouth, like he’s suppressing a smile, is the final fucking straw.

I rush Sergio, grabbing the lapels of his expensive suit and crushing the fabric in my hands as I wrench him closer. “Because he’s fucking dying, you miserable cunt.”

My body freezes in place when I hear the click of a safety releasing behind me. “Slowly, Savage,” Matias says in an almost conversational tone of voice. “We don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

A snarl bubbles up in my throat as Vito hurries around the table and carefully disengages my fingers from Sergio’s suit.

Sergio’s thin lipped smile didn’t move a fraction of an inch.

He didn’t even blink.

Just like the fucking cold-blooded reptile he is.

Chapter 31

Nyx

There’s a knock at Savage’s bedroom door. I stare at it with a bemused slant on my lips.

“It’s Sam. You decent?”

“Not even a little, Sammy Boy.”

There’s a long pause. I imagine Sam standing outside, trying to puzzle out what the hell he’s supposed to do.

“I’m coming in.”

“You can try!” Again in that sing-song voice, because that’s the kind of fucking morning it’s been for me. Not only did I have a roaring hangover that made me want to shed enough tears to fill up the bottle of Llorona me and Andy nearly emptied last night, but I discovered Savage had locked me in.

Again.

There’s a pattern emerging between the two of us. I try to run away, he tries to lock me up. But his door must be reinforced with steel rebar because all my attempts at a prison break were in vain.

At least there were some Nyx-sized clothes piled on the coffee table for me. Seems my jailor actually cares for me, even if he does show it in unusual ways.

The door opens, and Sam withers under the heat of my glare. “Ole Sparky, or lethal injection? Do I at least get a last meal?”

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