Page 14 of Till Death Saves Me

What's stopping them from coming after my wife?

I can't shake this nagging feeling. With an irritated growl, I pull out my phone and open the app connected to the house's security cameras. My eyes scan the feeds until I find her.

There she is, still lounging by the pool. The sun glistens off her damp skin, and I feel a rush of... something. Relief? Possessiveness? I push the thought aside, focusing instead on the fact that no one else's eyes are on her. And I can see my guards stationed outside the house. Good.

I watch for a moment longer, taking in the peaceful scene. It's almost surreal, this slice of normalcy amidst the chaos of our world. For a brief second, I wonder what it would be like to be there with her, to give into this lustful beast that started pounding under my skin the second I saw her walking down that aisle to me.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I've got a job to do, a message to send. I can't afford to be distracted by thoughts of my wife and her damn bikini.

Shaking my head, I close the app and tell the driver to go. I need the ability to…chat with our guest when I pull him in.

As the driver pulls onto the street, I force my mind back to the task at hand. The Red Serpents need to learn their place, and I'm more than happy to teach them.

With each mile that passes, I feel the familiar cold focus settling over me. By the time I reach my destination, Ivan the husband is gone, replaced by Ivan the brigadier.

It's time to hunt.

Lucky for me, it doesn't take long to locate the bastard. And instead of going on retrieval, I let him drink himself into a stupor before I make my move. It'll make my job easier.

So I stand in the shadows, watching our target stumble out of the dingy bar. The Red Serpent messenger sways, clearly drunk off his ass. Perfect.

"Now," I murmur into my earpiece.

My men move with practiced precision. Two flank the messenger while another pulls up in a black SUV. Before the drunk bastard can even process what's happening, we've got him.

I slide into the backseat next to our captive, my face a mask of cold indifference. The messenger's eyes widen as recognition dawns.

"You... work for the Sokolovs," he stammers.

I don't bother responding. Instead, I nod to my man in the driver's seat. "Let's go."

As we pull away from the curb, I turn my attention to our guest. He's trembling now, all bravado gone. Good. Fear makes them sloppy.

"We're going to have a little chat," I say, my voice low and dangerous. "And you're going to tell me everything you know about the Red Serpents' recent... activities."

The messenger tries to put on a brave face. "I don't know shit," he spits.

I can't help the cold smile that spreads across my face. This is what I live for. The thrill of the hunt, the sweet taste of fear in the air.

"Oh, I think you do," I reply, pulling out a knife. The blade glints in the dim light of the car. "And I'm very, very good at making people remember things they've forgotten."

I trace the flat of the blade along his cheek, relishing the way he flinches. "Now, let's start with who ordered the hit on our warehouse."

The messenger's eyes dart frantically between me and the knife. I can practically smell his terror. It's intoxicating.

"I... I can't," he whimpers. "They'll kill me."

I lean in close, my voice a menacing whisper. "You should be more worried about what I'll do to you if you don't start talking."

To emphasize my point, I press the tip of the knife against his throat. Just enough to draw a bead of blood.

"Tick tock," I say, feeling a rush of adrenaline course through my veins. "I'm not a patient man."

And it didn't take long for him to learn that.

8

GINNY

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