Page 55 of Savage Obsession

Blood spurts. His wailing is deafening as Leon takes off his gag and lets him drop to the floor, his body convulsing in agony as he clutches the bloody stump where his hand used to be.

“You have another one,” I remind him, crouching down. “You may yet use it to come after me again.”

He’s shaking uncontrollably, his body drenched in sweat. “No! No, I won’t!”

“I have to make sure you do not. Don’t I?”

He’s sobbing, eyes wild. “I said I was sorry. PLEASE!”

“Were you sorry when you got a rattlesnake? How about when you milked it? Making sure to get the very potent potion of its venom? I bet you were whistling. Now you are sorry?” I ask, watching him bleed to death.

He tries to say something, but he is no longer coherent.

“You should’ve never put your hands on what’s mine.” My voice is ice.

I take his left hand this time. One last crunch of metal, and it, too, falls to the blood-soaked floor. His screams are hoarse, raw, reverberating off the warehouse walls.

Leon steps forward, wiping the severed hands on a cloth, completely unfazed. “What do you want to do with him?”

I tilt my head, watching as the pathetic excuse for a man convulses. He won’t last long. Blood loss will take care of him soon enough.

“Leave him,” I say simply. “Let his fellow rats have him for a while. You can have his body taken care of tomorrow.”

Leon nods and pulls out a chair. I know he would not leave until the bastard dies. This is something I like about Leon. He never leaves loose ends.

I turn to the two severed hands on the table, blood pooling around them. A slow smirk curves my lips. Perfect.

Later That Night

I enter the penthouse, the faint sound of the city buzzing below. Yelena is in the living room, curled up on the couch with a book in her lap. When she hears me, she glances up, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re late,” she murmurs, closing the book. “Busy working?”

I say nothing as I walk over to her, reaching into the black velvet bag in my hand. I pull out the small, bloodied box, placing it carefully on the glass coffee table before her.

Yelena eyes it warily. “What is that?”

I lean down, brushing a stray curl behind her ear, my lips barely an inch from hers. “A promise kept.”

She swallows, studying me before hesitantly reaching for the box. She lifts the lid— and gasps.

The two severed hands lay inside, wrapped carefully in silk.

She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t recoil. Instead, she blinks, tilting her head as if processing the gift.

“I told you, didn’t I?” I murmur, brushing a knuckle down her jaw. “Anyone who puts their hands on you will pay with their lives.”

A slow, dark smile curves her lips. Because she understands.

I kiss her, swallowing her silent approval, letting her taste the brutality of my love.

And at this moment, I realize I will kill for her again without hesitation. And the next bastard will be Lazaro. The bastard who ordered this hit.

26

Aithan

I step into my father’s office, ready to tell him what I have just learned about Lazaro and to discuss how to deal with him. Instead, I stop short, my entire body tensing at the sight before me.

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