Page 52 of Wicked Devotions: Part 2

I just want out of this. I don’t want to be beholden to him anymore. I want a life with Harper and Emerson and to watch Declan and Banks love her in their way. I want the family I chose instead of the one I was unlucky enough to be born into. But, more than anything, I need to know they’ll be safe. It’s the most important thing to me.

Everyone’s head jerks at the sound of gunfire from outside. Chairs fall as the men shoot to their feet and rush toward the exits. I know that there’s been tension over drug trafficking with some rivals from Albania. I stand but look to Nicholai for confirmation that this is the diversion.

As soon as he inclines his head, I go the opposite way, heading for my uncle’s office, which is where I know he’ll be holed up. He rarely leaves the safety of the space unless he’s coming over to the states. I doubt he’s even seen his wife in months.

“Cyrus, why are you back here instead of securing your family’s fortune with everyone else?”

Nicholai and Andreas walk up behind me, flanking me on both sides. I stiffen; it’d be so easy for them to double cross me right now, to throw me as a sacrificial lamb to my bloodthirstyuncle. But I stay strong. If this is the last thing I do, so help me he’s going out of this world alongside me.

“My family is secure.”

His dark brows lower as he stands. “I am your family.” He gestures at the men behind me. “They are your family.”

“You’re not.” I sneer over my shoulder at them. “They fucking aren’t close to being family either.”

More gunshots ring out through the night. The sound of car engines revving and tires peeling out over gravel fill the silence as my uncle morphs into the monster he’s always been. Any family resemblance evaporates as his eyes harden.

“If you feel that way, there’s no reason to keep you around.” He pulls a gun from the drawer. “Should I pull the trigger and make it quick?”

“I’m not scared of you or death. I welcome it. I’m sick of being used.”

“Ah but you’re such a good fighting dog.” He walks around his desk, gun in hand.

I need him to come closer. I’m not shooting him. I’m killing him with my father’s knife. The one that was used against him in this very warehouse years ago. When my uncle dies, it won’t be fast.

He jerks his head, gesturing for Nicholai to grab my arms. He holds me in a loose grip, one that eases my fear of double cross. Especially when the hilt of my knife is so close to my fingers.

“I should put the bullet right between your eyes just like the worthless dog that you are.”

I spit in his face, relishing the look of shock and utter disgust that fills his expression. Blinding pain ricochets through my face as the butt of his gun cracks against my cheekbone. I smile as blood fills my mouth. Violence seeps through my veins, a sickness that he coaxed and tended since I was a child.

Nicholai drops my arms, and I shoot forward, head butting Georgios before he knows what’s happening. I pull my knife out and slam his old body back against the desk. He bucks against me and barks orders for his two highest ranking men who do nothing but walk out of the room.

I watch with glee as panic fills his eyes when he realizes he’s been set up. His fingers struggle to move my hand from his neck, but I don’t feel the scratches. I feel nothing but joy at knowing that I’m about to end his miserable life. One of his hands drops and he grabs a stapler, hitting me in the temple.

The thing is, he turned me into a fighter. I’m a beast of his own making, and he’s not strong enough to put me down. He knows it, but he’s not going to give up. I slam my knife into the hand that held the stapler. The sound of his howl of pain eases the ache inside my temple.

“If you kill me, no one will take out your girlfriend’s dad in prison. I’m the one with all the connections.”

“Liar.” I twist the knife, feeling it scrape against the bones in his hand as his blood coats my fingers and puddles beneath us. “I’d walk into that prison before I let you live and continue to use me.” I pull the knife out of his hand and stab it into his shoulder.

He doesn’t react, so I do it again, specifically avoiding anything vital. I have a lot of pain to give him before I end him. I want him to bleed out of as many holes as scars he gave me. As I pull the knife from his body again, I feel the unmistakable feeling of being stabbed. I lean over his body, my hand pressing against his airway as he turns from pink to purple to blue with oxygen depravation. While he’s struggling for breath, I look down and see a letter opener sticking out from my side.

I yank it out with a grunt and stab it through his palm and into the desk. I release his neck, and as he wheezes in a breath, I stab my knife through the other hand again, pinning it place. I take a step back and wipe blood from my eye. With each breaththat I take, pain shoots through me from the stab wound. I can feel the blood seeping from me, but I’m not stopping.

I unbuckle my belt and horror fills his gaze.

“No. Cyrus. No. You’re named after the strongest man in our family. You’re better than this.”

“Relax, uncle, I’m not going to do anything you haven’t done to me.” I tear his shirt open, his flabby belly rising and falling with labored breaths.

The first crack of my belt against his skin is the most satisfying thing I’ve ever felt. Joy hums through my body as I give him every strike he’s ever given me, over and over. By the time I’m done, sweat has mixed with my blood and my vision is hazy.

My uncle’s body lies bleeding and feeble across his desk. Welts and cuts crisscross his torso, and his blood drips from the top of the desk down to the floor at his feet. I slide my belt under his neck and feed the end through the buckle. He’s given up the fight as he lies there. His eyes hold mine as I tighten the leather and strangle the life from his evil body.

I don’t feel an ounce of remorse as I watch him take his last breath. If I could have made his suffering worse, I would have. The door creaks open behind me, and Andreas pulls me away from the body.

Nicholai begins the clean up and disposal of Georgios body. I assume they’ll entomb him in cement and drop him into the bottom of the Mediterranean.

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