Page 46 of Filthy Savage

I still can’t get over the amount. $9,900. I have never seen this much before.

This money will really help me, and I swear to not waste a dollar unless necessary.

CHAPTER 11

FIONN

I pourmyself a glass of bourbon, leaning into the leather chair in the underground casino we run. When I toss it back, the liquid burns down my throat, not alleviating the rage, which grows with each damn day.

My little rabbit has been gone for three weeks. I swear not being able to find her is going to kill me. And everyfuckingday, I lose even more of my sanity.

But I know I’m gonna find her. No matter how long it takes.

Shewillbe mine.

There’s a knock on the door, and I know it’s one of my men here to bring a gift. A gift I can take all my aggression out on. Who better on than the guy selling crack in my casino?

“Come in.”

The door opens, and my two guys are dragging a beaten-up, sorry son of a bitch, blood dripping from his mouth.

“Ah, finally.”

They drop him on the ground while I start undoing my cuffs.

“So…” I drag my sleeves up, kneeling before the whimpering, pathetic asshole. “You thought you could come to our club and sell here?”

“I—I’m sorry, man. I made a mistake. I—I—I didn’t know it was Mob territory.”

Cracking my neck, I let out a long sigh, heading toward the closet behind the desk. When I return with a black case and drop it on the floor beside him, he cries.

My body jerks with a dry chuckle. “I’m gonna spend the next hour teaching you not to shit where we eat.”

When I remove a hammer, he tries to get to his feet, but my men push him back down.

“Now, are you a righty or a lefty?”

I swing the hammer in my grasp, seeing her face in my head. Those gorgeous eyes I’ve been dying to get lost in for the past twenty-onefuckingdays.

But she left. She fucking left, and I can’t seem to find her.

With a roar, I swing the hammer down, crushing his right hand. His scream only feeds my fury.

“P-p-p-please, no-no more!” he wails.

While he begs, I drop the hammer on the floor and remove a knife from my desk, running a hand through my hair.

My eyes shut, and I see her, the way she lay in my arms that night as I held her.

Reaching into my pocket, I squeeze her panties. I carry them with me at all times like a damn lunatic. I ball my hand, heart hammering.

Fuck, I need to kill something.

“Pry his mouth open.”

My men do as they’re told while he fights them, both of his eyes so bruised, I’m surprised he can see at all. When the men have him held down, I grip his tongue and slice it off.

Blood. So much of it, yet all I want is more.

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