Page 15 of Master

Isaac struggles to breathe, and his fight falters from oxygen deprivation. He’s turning blue and moments from death when Liam whispers, “If I see you anywhere near her or my club again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LIAM

Pushing from the wall when I drop my arm, Isaac rasps, “Keep the fucking whore. She doesn’t listen for shit anyway.”

The room falls silent, except for the faint sound of Isaac barking at hospital staff as he makes his way toward the elevator at the end of the hall.

“I thought you were going to kill him,” Sasha confides as Isaac storms from the room.

“I thought about it,” I confess. One small shove and I could’ve crushed his trachea with my forearm. The world—and Sasha—would’ve been a better place for it.

“I wish you would have,” she shares coldly, her pleading, chestnut eyes boring into mine.

Sasha rolls across the bed and onto her side, tucking the pillow into the crook of her neck. I pull the blanket up her body, silently encouraging her to get the rest she so desperately needs. Her sad, brown eyes meet mine. “He’s not going to listen.”

Grabbing my chair, I slide against the side of her bed and settle back into it to uphold my promise to her. We sit in silence, and I wait patiently as Sasha’s eyelids grow heavy. She hovers on the brink of sleep and groggily mutters, “Isaacalwaysgets what he wants. Money… Status... Me.”

I should mind my business and definitelynotsay what’s on my fucking mind. I should probably do a lot of things. Taking Sasha’s hand, I give it a gentle squeeze and whisper, “Not this time, sweetheart.”

From her bedside, I text my brothers.

Where does this asshole live?

DECLAN

You KNOW where Finn lives.

I’m fucking serious. Where does he live?

CONOR

I already beat the fucking piss out of him tonight

Not good enough.

He’s still fucking breathing.

TRISTAN

SoHo

7860 Mercer Street

I’ll meet you there. Twenty minutes.

Pulling my card from my wallet, I tuck it into Sasha’s hand before leaving her room. The traffic is so light at this hour that I make it from Midtown to SoHo in fifteen minutes. After parking my car down the block, I wait at the curb outside the nextbuilding for Tristan. He arrives a few minutes later and pulls his Tahoe into the alleyway between the two buildings.

“How’s Layla?” I ask as we walk in silence into the building and to the small elevator bank, knowing how distraught she was over what transpired tonight.

We step into the empty cab when it arrives, and Tristan presses the button for the penthouse. “She’s okay.”

We ride in silence for a moment before I inform him, “Anyone that recommended this fuck is out. And whoever recommended them needs to be re-vetted. Because this shit isn’t happening ever again.”

“You’ll get no argument from me about this.” Tristan nods. “And I don’t exactly see anyone but the rescinded members having an issue with it.”

The elevator opens to a small foyer and the lone door to the penthouse. Tristan braces to shove his shoulder through it before I stop him. Pulling the lock pick from my pocket, I kneel to pop the door. “It’s not going to look like an accident if we rip the door off the hinges.”

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