Page 62 of Ruthless Rebel

After watching them for a few minutes, I slink along the tree line until I can get closer to them, and without thinking or taking another breath, I’m on them. I use my knife to slice the first one’s throat. It's rough and uneven as he struggles against me, but it allows me to use his body as a human shield, as I bring my gun up and shoot the second in the middle of his chest.

The third’s eyes are wide and filled with fear, as his friends’ bodies drop at his feet, and before he can even react, my bloodied hand is around his throat, slamming him into the stone of the wall, disarming him of his weapon with a controlled ease I don’t feel.

If there’s one thing my father and brother taught me, it’s how to kill without remorse.

“Who are you?” He mumbles, his body shaking, and I smirk as I bring my knife up and force it into the same side that Lincoln gained his wound. No doubt they were aiming for his heart, and missed, but one thing they should know about me…

I never miss.

“I’m the grim fucking reaper,” I grit, slamming the blade up into his heart, and savoring the way the light disappears from his eyes.

Only once I have felt his life drain out of his body do I pull back my blade and let him drop, discarding him like the piece of shit he is. Then I wipe the blood off on the sleeve of my jacket and turn toward the large front door. There is no security system, so this guy is either a fucking idiot, or he is just that arrogant, and with the display of men he had out here, I am going to guess it’s the latter.

I let myself in, surveying the dark and quiet surroundings, and after a quick check, I clock that it’s empty and head upstairs, taking them two at a time until I reach the top, glancing up and down the hallway until my eyes zero in on a single light coming from beneath a door. Bingo.

My foot kicks the door open so hard that it ricochets off the wall, and the man, Billy, startles slightly, his eyes flashing to mine, but they aren’t filled with fear. Unfortunately for him, I recognize the look in them, it’s one I know all too well.

“Good evening, Mr…” he trails off, an air of nonchalance that can only be gained with a lack of humanity licking his tone.

“Donovan. My name is Asher Donovan,” I confirm, wanting him to know exactly who is here to take his life, and I enjoy the way his eyes light up in recognition, completely ignoring my blood-stained clothes.

“Ah, the infamous legacy of the Donovan empire,” he gushes, rising to his feet and moving towards the bar cart he has in the corner. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Donovan.”

I take a step inside his office, and close the door, leaning on the back of it without ever taking my eyes off him. “I’m here to rectify your mistake by taking your life,” I tell him carefully, and I see his mind at work trying to figure out what I mean.

“This is about the hacker,” he confirms, and I nod, not caring for his rhyme or reason of it all, no, the only thing I want is his life, yet still he pushes on with no concern. “I have five men outside, Mr. Donovan, all hired with the sole purpose of keeping me alive, what makes you think you will succeed without them killing you first?” He asks, the same arrogance that got my father killed floating all around him.

I step forward, slipping off my suit jacket, and tossing it on a chair positioned to my right, as I snort, “Youhadfive men. Now it’s just you and me.” This time he pauses slightly, his eyes fixed on the casual way I roll up the sleeves of my shirt, and only now does he seem to register all the blood stained there. When he starts to move, I train my gun on him, halting him in place. “Ah, ah, ah, let’s not do anything else to piss me off tonight,” I warn, the darkness of my soul roaring to life, as I erase the distance between us.

“Make it quick then,” he huffs out, his hands beginning to shake, and his fear fuels something inside of me, as I round his desk and use the gun to push him back into his chair.

“You touched something that belonged to me tonight, that was your first mistake,” I tell him coldly, bringing the gun right beneath his chin, and tipping his head back. “Do you want to know what the second one was?” I ask, leaning down until my mouth aligns with his ear. “Thinking I would make it quick.”

I slam my knife into his left thigh, rejoicing in the pained scream that tears from his throat, and when I pull back I know he sees the reputation of what it means to bear the last name Donovan. Reaching down, I slip off his belt, pulling it around his leg and using it as a tourniquet to slow the bleeding. What fun would it be if he died before I could exact my revenge?

Once I’m satisfied that I’ve done that, I press my gun into the slim part of his shoulder and shoot, the bullet tearing right through him and his chair, lodging itself in the wall behind him. He’s fully at my mercy now, not able to move, not with the writhing pain he is in, and I push away, cracking my neck, ready to really get to work on him.

Blood and sweat pools through his shirt, as he watches me pull out the weapons I brought with me and lay them out on his desk.

“This isn’t a negotiation,” I start, flicking my gaze over him, as he stares at me with a mixture of pain and disgust. “I’m not here to get answers from you, nor do I care for any pleas for your life, so please save your breath. I’m here for one reason and one reason only,” I tell him, before gliding the knife down the side of his face, making sure only to cut deep enough to hurt, not to kill. He sputters and gasps in pain, his hands coming up to fight, but it doesn't stop me, it doesn’t even deter me. I use one hand to strangle his throat to keep him in place, and the other to slice up his skin.

“Lincoln Blackwell,” I spit his name like a curse, one I’ve been under for almost two fucking years, and squeeze BIlly’s throat tighter, almost cutting off his air supply. “I don’t know why you went after him, I don’t even care, but I do know you will pay,” I tell him truthfully, releasing his throat, and letting the sounds of his gagging and gurgling wash over me like a symphony.

I use my knife to rip open his shirt, digging my finger into the wound in his shoulder and making him cry out in pain. Yep, everything looks good. I drag my knife up and down his torso, back and forth until I reach the spot where he stabbed Lincoln, and then ever so slowly I force my knife inside, replicating the wound down to the exact size, before pulling back.

“I’m not a man who craves power, that was my father. I’m not even a reckless man who thinks I can own whatever I please, that was my brother. I’m sure you’re familiar with their reputations, but I am a protective man,” I start, picking up the ax, and surveying my work so far, as his tear-stained face turns even whiter despite the blood. “There’s a reason you only hear whispers of my name, there’s a reason my father and brother are dead, and I’m not, and there’s a reason that after tonight, no one will ever remember your pathetic existence again.”

Pressing the ax into the center of his chest, I push down, breaking the skin slightly as I bring my face close to his. “I really fucking hate people touching what’s mine, and he’s mine.” Then I slam the ax into him, ripping him open, delighting in his cries of pain that echo around us, until he passes out.

His blood coats my skin, mixing with Lincoln’s, and all it does is send me deeper into my rage. How dare he, how fucking dare he come after him and try and take him from me. No one is allowed to hurt him and get away with it, not on my watch, and anyone who tries will meet the same fate as Billy.

I hack and cut until his body is practically in pieces, and the only thing that stops me is the opening of the office door. My gun is back in my hand, cocked and aimed, before it opens all the way, my heart pounding in my chest, as my eyes lock on familiar, horrified ones.

Zack’s security guys from the office, Sebastian, Harry, and Landon, stand in the doorway, eyes wide, taking in the blood-soaked crime scene.

“I think I’ll take the fifty toddlers now,” Seb mutters, leaning in to Harry and Lan, and though I’m sure it’s some kind of inside joke, neither of them laugh, just nod in agreement.

“Ash?” Landon says my name in question, taking a slight step forward, as I throw down my ax, and bring their attention to my hands.

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