Page 57 of Volatile Obsessions

He’s sorry? HE’S SORRY?

Chucking in disbelief, I crumpled the note in my shaky hand and promptly tossed it into the rubbish bin regardless of the information supplied. He was sorry? He was fucking sorry? Did he truly think a meager apology would amend what he’d done to me? Just like that?

The man had to be delusional. Insane. Or maybe he was using? He had to be, had unparalleled access to anything he wanted.

Or maybe he’s just that evil…

“L!” Ellie reappeared at my door then, face pale, breathing ragged, her blonde hair mussed up as if she’d running through the factory.

Every red flag known to man kind shot up at the sight of her distress. The already frantic beating of my heart raged, threatening to break free from my chest.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, shooting onto my feet.

“You’re gonna wanna see this,” she said simply, motioning for me to follow her.

Stat.

Abandoning my desk, I scampered out of my office behind my PA, promising a befuddled Isabella I’d be right back along the way. She didn’t seemed too pleased, but nodded anyway, pulling her phone out from her purse to busy herself in the meantime.

Thank fuck.

The last thing I needed was for her to storm out after I’d come in just for her sake.

With brisk footing, Ellie and I hightailed it down the stairs to the back room where at least a dozen people were hard at work, packaging new palettes for online orders. Their greetings went unanswered, aside from a simple wave, as we barreled through each station and out the back door onto the delivery deck.

The scorching afternoon sun blinded me as I rushed out behind Ellie. Hand raised to shield myself, I skidded to a stop when I saw Vic standing next to Roscoe, their backs turned as they assessed whatever was in the lone delivery truck.

Thump, thump, thump.

Every instinct within me told me to run. I wanted to, wanted to turn back while there was still time and he hadn’t seen me, but Ellie outed me before I could so much as take one step.

“She’s here!”

Both men spun around in a flash, their eyes pinning me in place. Vic’s were glacial, almost emotionless to an extent, while Roscoe’s were more concerned, dark brows bunched together tensely.

“He’s not playing around anymore,” Roscoe said, and at first I didn’t clock on to who he was talking about.

I couldn’t focus with Vic standing not ten feet away from me, staring at me in the most unnerving fashion.

“W-who?” I asked nervously.

“King.”

My stomach flipped at the mention of his name.

“What did he do?” I hedged, taking cautious steps forward.

Roscoe glanced at Vic, then turned back to me and hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “Inside the truck, but brace yourself… It’s not pretty.”

I don’t know what I was expecting to see as I slid between the two and padded down the docks edge, but awaited me surely wasn’t it, even after reading the note taped onto the door.

Inside the crisp white delivery truck was a mangled Javi, our delivery driver, and a large shipping box. He knew everything that went down behind these ebony doors, and now, he was dead.

Gasping, I tried processing the harrowing image before me. From the looks of it, he suffered a great deal of pain before Roman finally let him die. His body remained upright solely by the thick, course rope binding him to the chair, uniform shirt drenched in his blood.

This is where got really ugly.

His eyes—gouged.

His ears—sliced off clean.

And his lips—sewn shut.

I didn’t have to open the box to know what was in there, but a part of me wanted to believe Roman wasn’t sick enough to do such a thing…

In the end, I was wrong.

Very, very wrong.

Inside the box were two eyes, two ears, and one bloodied tongue.

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