Page 457 of Rage

If it was up to me, I’d keep her painted in blood. She is a fucking sight covered in the blood of the man who hurt her. It’s dark justice.

But instead, I had a body to clean up.

It doesn’t take me long. Years of cleaning up my kills, some messier than Maeve’s, have made me an expert, and Ferguson is too trusting to doubt my lies.

After cleaning the blood with the chemicals I keep on hand, I change the sheets and clean Michael up. Then, I dress him, asking Simon to lie about the cause of death.

It takes considerably more control not to slice Michael into pieces for even thinking Maeve was his to touch.

“He’s going to know,” Simon whispers, pushing black glasses up his nose. Greying blond locks dust over his skull. “If he sees the body, he’ll know this isn’t a heart attack.”

“Well, it’s a good thing he won’t see the body.” I smirk, my eyes narrowing on the guy. He has only been in the clan a few years, and he’ll be on the way out soon enough.

This life is hard. Most can’t handle it.

After the room is staged, documents signed, I wait in Ferguson’s office.

I sure as hell don’t want to be here. I want to be in Maeve’s bed, feeling her cunt around my cock again.

I meant what I said. She’s mine and I’m hers. I have been since the moment her green eyes caught me and her knife cut into my throat as children.

Ferguson enters, throwing his jacket on to a rack by the door.

His glare disappears the minute he sees me.

“Ah, Killian. I was wondering when you’d be back. All good in Arizona?”

“It’s taken care of.”

He nods, pouring two large glasses of whiskey. He hands me one. “Good man. I knew you’d be an asset the moment I saw you in that alley.”

The night he saw me kill someone. Normal people would think I was a murderer, Ferguson just saw a promising pupil.

Sipping from the glass, I sit on his desk casually. “We have another situation.”

“Oh?”

“Michael’s dead.”

Ferguson holds the whiskey on his tongue before swallowing bitterly. “One of the families?”

“Oddly, no. Heart attack. Wasn’t exactly a healthy man.” I tsk, even as everything in me wants to bring the asshole back just so Maeve can kill him again.

Seeing her so savage does something to me. I feel akinship to what lives in her, two black halves of one shriveled black heart. Maeve is made for me.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Ferguson nods. “Fuck.”

He sits behind his desk heavily. “That screws everything up.”

“Such as?” I finish the booze, hating how it gets rid of Maeve’s taste.

Like fresh berries and soft whipped cream.Fuck.I’m such a goner.

“Michael was supposed to take over.” He throws his beefy hand around. “I was grooming him to take over once Maeve turned twenty-one.” Which is today.

The day that should have been met with love and celebration, was going to be about giving her to a monster. I clear the emotions from my face as I stand to pour another glass. I figured as much, but to hear it from my mentor, a man I killed for…

“You gave Maeve to him.”

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