Page 45 of Beautiful Scar

“Thanks for that,” I say.

And I slit his throat.

He gurgles in shock. Blood wells up thick and dark. I back off, stepping over the bed as his hands scrabble at his neck. He jerks sideways and falls down onto the floor, more blood leaking from his pumping artery.

I watch him die. His wife watches too. She’s sobbing and shaking into her pillow.

Gentle and fast. More than he deserved.

I planned on making him suffer for what he did to my wife. But maybe I’m going soft. Just like I was soft with Dasha. My arms wrapped around my wife’s body. Her satisfied sighs and mewls as she drifted off to sleep.

Donnie lets out one last rattle and goes still.

Pathetic fucking bastard broke so easily.

I use their bedspread to wipe his blood from my knife.

Snot rolls down his wife’s face as she curls into a ball. She’s a wretched, pathetic little thing. “Please, please,” she begs, “please let me call an ambulance. Please don’t hurt my baby.”

I shove my knife back into my belt. She needs a morgue, not a goddamn paramedic.

“Next time, don’t marry a fucking scumbag,” I tell her, which is really good advice. I hope she’ll follow it.

I leave the woman alone. I hear her screaming as I descend the stairs, thinking about Dasha all the way out the back door again and into the rain.

Should I have killed the wife too? She saw my face. There’s a small chance that could blow back on me if this ever gets touched by the BPD.

Would I have spared the woman if I hadn’t slept in my wife’s bed last night?

The thought troubles me as I hurry down the block. There’s a car waiting around the corner. I slip into the back and sigh once the door’s slammed shut.

“Job done, boss?” My new driver’s an established and respected member of the Brotherhood named Alexan, a clever and technically gifted hacker. He’s ambitious and ruthless, both things I look for in a soldier. He’s also in his early thirties and not some fresh-faced kid. His age and experience make him a worthwhile addition to my personal team.

“All finished. You can turn the lights back on.”

He does something on a small laptop in the seat next to him, then the street lamps flicker back to life.

“Where to now?” he asks.

“Home.” I lean back and close my eyes. “Send a secure message to Arsen. Tell him we’re looking for Ciaran and Oisin McGrath next.”

Alexan’s eyes widen slightly. “The Murder Twins?”

I flinch and wave that fucking stupid nickname away. “Just send the message.”

Alexan types away, and I turn to the night, brooding on what happened back in that room. Dasha’s smiling face keeps ghosting through my mind. Her sweaty, satisfied body limp in my arms. My seed spent between her legs.

Was it weak, leaving that wife alive? Am I going soft, all because I was gentle with my virgin bride?

Better to harden myself and hold tight to my black heart.

If I lose my edge, I’ve only got myself to blame.

Chapter 13

Dasha

“Delivery for you.” Vito stands a few respectful feet away in the hall and gestures toward the stairs. Two big, burly guys are lugging a brand new couch wrapped in protective blankets toward the landing.

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