Page 72 of The Devil's Secret

He aims the weapon at the man’s crotch.

Pop.

The bullet fires as a scream pierces the room. His scream. Enzo reaches into Jay’s pocket, retrieving his wallet as the man continues to wail.

“How does it feel to be powerless?” I rise, making my way up to him, to both of them, needing to confront them. “How does it feel to know you’re going to die?”

Enzo moves a fraction, giving me space.

I lower my head, my face level to Jay’s. “I didn’t want what you did to me. It’s men like you, with your sick depravities that kept the club going. I’ve never wished death on anyone, but I wish it for you, for all three of you.”

When I straighten, I’m met with a face of the man whose love for me outshines every awful thing he may have done. He shares in my pain. Owns it. Feels it. I’m really not alone anymore.

Dante slips a hand into the other man’s pants pocket, dragging out his wallet. “Graham Mince. Age forty-two,” he reads.

Enzo opens the other wallet. “Jay Singer. Age forty-four. We’ll make sure even your mommy can’t find your remains.”

“I’m sorry!” Graham now begs with the tears of a coward. “It wasn’t right what we did. I know that now.”

“Fuck you!” My fist connects with his lip, adrenaline winding through my veins as he groans.

“That’s my girl.” Enzo steps around, grabbing my hand and rubbing my knuckles. It aches in that moment, the rage fleeing, the pain coming, but it felt good. I needed to do it.

With an arm curled around the small of my back, we face them together. “Beg. Scream. It doesn’t matter,” Enzo says. “I’m going to take bits of you until you die. And right now, I’m gonna start with your tongues.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

ENZO

The thingswe’ve done would make most people sick, but it has no effect on me. Not when the blood belongs to those who’ve messed with the people we love.

Sure, we may be goddamn beasts, but we hurt. We feel. And when one of ours is in pain, we feed the demon that feasts on the vengeance that’s been breeding within us, growing with each passing year. It’s ours to savor. Nothing will make us stop, not until every one of them dies. All the people tied to the Bianchis, all the ones who ruined the lives of so many.

Dante pries Graham’s mouth open, as the man fights it, but he doesn’t stand a chance. My brother’s strength is no match for him. The shit they did to her would have them skinned alive, but I don’t know if she’d stomach that level of savagery.

He rattles on the seat, crying, his thumb missing after he refused to tell us the name of the third man who was with them the day they… I can’t even say it.

“Shhh,” I mock. “It’ll be over soon.” I lift the chef’s knife, its blade sharp, glistening under the lights as I grasp his tongue in between my fingers. “Well, until I find something else to chop off.” My laugh is cruel as I start to slice.

It goes in clean. The gagging, the attempts at screaming, it only makes me want to torture him more. They will suffer for their sins. I will avenge her pain. This is only the beginning.

Once his tongue is disconnected, I throw it on the floor by his feet. I turn to find Joelle staring, her eyes huge, chest heaving.

“Are you okay, baby? If this is too much, I can have my men take you upstairs.”

She shakes her head rapidly. “I’m fine.”

I nod once, returning to Jay, who groans, still in visible pain from having his dick shot off.

“Nothing to say anymore?” I edge the tip of the knife under his jaw, raising his face to me.

When he doesn’t answer, his gasping only getting stronger, I pierce the blade into his skin, right under his chin, the gasps now replaced by weeping. “How many times did she beg you to stop? How many fucking times did you refuse?”

“K-ki-kill me,” he sobs. “Please kill me.”

“Oh, don’t fucking worry, I plan to. Not just yet though. First, you’re gonna be a good little boy and tell me the name of the third man.”

“Please,” he weeps, his body rattling.

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