Page 213 of Sinful Pleasure

“Don’t,” he croaked, barely able to summon enough strength to beg. “Please.”

Hearing him beg? It was almost sweet.

He had never once begged for mercy in all his years of chaos. He never cared about the lives destroyed by his decisions. Never cared that people suffered at his hands.

And now, here he was— broken and pleading like the coward he always was. I stared at him, my fingers still tingling with the urge to end him right then and there.

I looked down at the gun in my hand and smirked, the idea of an easy death repulsing me. I threw it to the side, pulling out my knife.

“You think I’ll grant you a quick, painless death?” I shook my head slowly. His eyes widened, a fresh wave of fear washing over him.

“No, Martin. I want you to suffer. Just like I’ve suffered all these years because of you.”

I grabbed him by the collar, lifting his barely conscious body off the ground, his face contorted in agony as I slammed him against the nearby fence. The only thing stopping him from falling into the chaos of our men below, dying because of his pathetic decisions, was that fucking fence. My fingers tightened around his throat. I could feel his pulse racing beneath my grip, his life hanging by a thread. The hatred that flooded through me was overwhelming, burning through every part of my body.

“Don’t, Maddox,” he spat through the blood, his ugly face twistedwith desperation. “Don’t put a woman before your family.”

I slammed my fist into his face again, knocking another tooth loose. The audacity of him, trying to use her to save his own skin. I wasn’t falling for it anymore.

“She’s not just some woman,” I said, my voice cutting through him like a knife, every word soaking into his thick skull. “She’s my family. And you? You’re nothing. You’ve always been nothing.”

I didn’t care to hear his last words if he had any. The damage he’d done to this world, to me, had already been more than enough.

With one swift motion, I slashed the knife across his throat, feeling the wet heat of blood as it splattered everywhere.

He choked, gagged, gasped—drowning in his own blood, the final echo of a life that should never have existed.And as I watched him die, something inside me—the little boy he had tainted for years—celebrated.

We are free, kid. We are finally fuckingfree.

I kicked his lifeless body off the fence, sending him plummeting to the ground below, where he would be swallowed by the same darkness he’d inflicted on so many.

As soon as his body hit the ground, everything stopped.

The gunfire. The chaos.

The room fell silent.

I stood there, my eyes scanning the blood-soaked floor, landing on my father’s lifeless form. I felt no grief, no guilt.

Only relief. Relief knowing that he could do no more damage.

To me. To anyone.

I placed my hands on the fence, my head tilting back as I inhaled deeply, the weight of it all settling on my shoulders.

When I spoke, my voice carried, cutting through the stunned silence.

“With the death of Martin King, I put an end to this war,” I declared, the words coming naturally now. “A war that has led only to bloodshed and death.”

They were all staring at me—uncertain, hesitant. Their eyes flicked between me and my father’s lifeless body, trying to grasp what had just happened, what would happen next.

“You can continue to support my father’s barbaric ways, but know this— if you do, you’ll end up just like him.” I raised the bloody knife, pointing itat his body to reinforce the message. “Dead.’’

They all looked down at his body.

‘’You can join me and live in peace, or you can die by my hands. The choice is yours.”

The room fell into silence, the tension thick. I could feel the weight of their eyes on me, men looking between each other, weighing their options.I didn’t blame them. They were victims of Martin too.

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