Page 64 of Lords of Ruin: Cherished

Her pulse flutters beneath my palm.

“What is this?” She gasps as I push heronto the hotel bed, Damien already handing me the duct tape for her wretched mouth.

“A little birdy told me you threatened my girl,” I whisper against her cheek, a tear escapes. “I can’t let you and your husband think a little money makes you invincible, can I?”

“Wait, they don’t have any money.” Damien mocks.

“Right, my apologies.” I pout, placing a strip of tape over her lips.“Still you threatened my girl. I can’t let you live.”

Richard makes a garbled, furious noise against the fabric stuffed in his mouth, his body lurching against the restraints. Angie thrashes beneath me, her manicured nails clawing at my wrist as I press her into the mattress, her breath coming in sharp, panicked bursts.

Good. She should be afraid.

I rip a strip of duct tape from the roll Damien hands me, yanking her arms behind her back. She kicks out, but I press my knee into her stomach, knocking the air from her lungs. “Easy, cariño,” I murmur, fastening the tape around her wrists. “Wouldn’t want you hurting yourself before we’re done playing.”

A muffled scream tears from her lips as I slap the tape over her mouth, sealing her pathetic pleas.

I straighten, rolling my shoulders as Damien cracks his knuckles beside me, his face radiating a deadly calm and control, but the tension in his body tells me he’s been waiting for this.

I turn to Richard, taking my time as I stalk toward him. His chest heaves, his sweat-slicked forehead reflecting thedim hotel lights. I crouch in front of him, gripping his jaw, forcing him to look at me.

“You thought you could threaten her?” My voice is almost conversational, but there’s something sharp beneath it, something lethal.

His nostrils flare as he glares at me, hate burning in his beady eyes. He jerks his head, trying to shake me off, but I tighten my grip, digging my fingers into his cheeks until his skin purples.

Damien exhales slowly. Then, without a word, he drives his fist into Richard’s stomach.

The chair creaks violently as Richard jerks forward, a strangled grunt escaping past the gag. His body curls as much as the restraints allow, his knees knocking together.

I hum, standing upright as he sputters, his eyes watering. “That was for thinking you had the right to say Willow’s name.”

Damien rolls his neck, shaking out his fist before swinging again. This time, it’s his jaw that takes the impact, his head snapping to the side with a sickening crack. Blood splatters across his suit, dribbling from the corner of his mouth.

“Shame. That was probably expensive,” I say, clicking my tongue.

Richard’s head lolls forward, his breaths ragged. I grip his hair, yanking him upright so he’s forced to look at me. His face is already swelling, one eye beginning to bruise.

“You’re gonna die tonight,” I inform him, my voice soft, almost gentle. “But first, I want you to understand why.”

I lean in, letting my lips almostbrush his ear.

“You threatened the only thing that matters to me.”

Then Damien drives his fist into Richard’s ribs.

Richard howls against the gag, his body convulsing as I deliver the next strike, then another. The sound of bones cracking fills the room, and I feel something give under my knuckles. He coughs wetly, blood dribbling down his chin, staining his teeth.

Damien grips the back of the chair, spinning it sharply so Richard is forced to look at Angie. Her muffled sobs fill the space between us, her body trembling violently on the bed.

“You thought you were untouchable,” Damien muses, his voice quiet but brimming with fury. “That no one would come for you.” He tilts his head, considering. “Tell me, Richard—do you feel untouchable now?”

Richard jerks weakly against the ropes, his swollen eyes darting between us.

Damien sighs, wiping the blood from his knuckles onto Richard’s shirt. “Nothing to say?” I glance at Angie, her tear-streaked face frozen in horror. “And here I thought you had such a big mouth.”

Richard groans, a wet, gurgling sound in his throat, blood bubbling from his busted lip. His right eye is nearly swollen shut, his suit ripped and stained dark with crimson. He looks like a beaten dog, weak and pathetic, trembling in the chair like his body is already trying to shut down.

Too fucking bad. I’m not finished.

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