Page 41 of What Doesn't Kill Us

His jaw clenches to the point I think his teeth will shatter, and he squeezes my face painfully before shoving away from me. He picks up the chair he’d been sitting in and heaves it across the room.

Then he goesballistic.

I see now where he earned the reputation of the Beast. He wreaks havoc along one side of the room and down the other, demolishing anything not nailed down, and even a few things that were until the entire space looks like a fucking war zone.

He goes quiet for a moment, his chest heaving, his hands fisted at his side. Then, in a blink, his face is directly in front of mine, the wild look in his eyes so completely unhinged I wonder if he’s even there anymore.

I open my mouth to say something, but before I can get a word out, his mouth is on mine, his teeth biting my lip until it splits, then his tongue shoves into my mouth. The growl that comes out of him pours into me, igniting me, and I can’t stop myself from straining closer. Our lips crash together, our tongues entwining and our teeth biting violently as we each fuel the feral need that’s swirling around us.

Just as quickly as he was there, he’s gone again, and I gasp for breath, swallowing that metallic taste down, unsure if it’s from him or me.

He’s standing before me, blood dripping down his chin onto his shirt. His shoulders sag, and he looks down at the ground, taking a few deep, much-needed breaths.

But then he shifts again, his shoulders straightening as his head comes up. He looks at me with his body stiff, his teeth bloody as he bares them at me, and spits out, “Are you waiting for me to be on my fucking knees?”

He drops to his knees in front of me, and I’m shaking my head in denial, completely unsure of what’s happening but still incapable of forming any coherent words.

He reaches behind him and takes out a revolver, checking the cylinder for bullets before holding it by his side. “You wanted to see me on my fucking knees, Toni? Is that what you’ve been waiting for? It would be one thing if you’d come in like the fucking deceitful viper you obviously are and physically knocked me down. But for you to go to such great lengths to snatch my soul and wrap it around your own so fucking intricately, now, that–-” He pauses, shaking his head as he laughs bitterly. Then he quiets, his eyes refocusing on my own. “That was the work of a fucking genius. Never in my wildest dreams could I have ever imagined that anyone would dupe me in such an epic way, least of all a woman.”

I’m still shaking my head, but the words won’t come out. They’re still held back by a lifetime of duplicity, by family loyalty. Adherence to the job at hand, that’s all that matters. He’s a job. He’s a fucking job.

As though he’s in my head, he repeats it to me, “I’m a job, Toni. I’m a fucking job. I don’t know who fucking taught you, but they did a great fucking job. I feel like I should hunt them down and shake their hands, but you know I won’t do that. Instead, I’ll hunt them down so I can rip out their lungs.”

He lifts the hand holding the gun, pointing it at me. “Tell me why, Toni. It’s the least you can do after playing me for so long.”

I’m still shaking my head, an invisible hand squeezing my throat, choking my denials, my explanations. He’s no longer breathing heavily; the maniacal light has deadened into glacial apathy as he continues to stare at me.

“If you don’t tell me, I will kill you.”

“Go ahead.” My voice breaks free finally, and his eyes widen, his hand tightening on the gun. “Do it.”

His eyes narrow, but his gun hand remains steady. “You’d rather die than tell me why you set me up? Why you betrayed me?”

I grind my teeth together and avert my gaze from his and await my imminent end. I deserve it. There’s no point in dragging it out.

“I don’t fucking think so.” His voice drags my attention back to him as he lowers the gun, then turns it on himself, pressing the barrel under his chin. “You wanted me dead so badly that you came in here and infiltrated my life. So, I may as well give you what you came here for, so you can get a pat on the back and a kill bonus.”

My heart stops in my chest. “Don’t.”

He raises his brows at me but doesn’t drop the gun. “Don’t what? Don’t do it myself? Were there stipulations to bringing me down? Someone else wants the honor?”

“Please. Don’t.”

“You don’t want me to shoot myself? Then tell me why?”

I shake my head again, and the fury burns in his eyes. He removes the gun from beneath his chin. “Let’s play a game, then.” He opens the cylinder, pushes the bullets out onto the ground, then picks up one and slides it back into the chamber. He stares at me, giving the cylinder a spin before waving it between us.

“One for you and one for me.”

I grit my teeth. I can see he’s serious, the familiar, determined glint in his eye taunting me to intervene. He points the gun at me, and I raise my chin, meeting his flinty gaze with a matching one of my own as I say, “Just do it. Stop with the unnecessary theatrics and fucking kill me. Just get it over with.”

He cocks his head, lowering the gun as he replies, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? For me to allow you to get off easy by ending it now. You won’t get that fucking lucky.”

He turns the gun back on himself, and as much as I try to school my features, as hard as I attempt to keep my body in a neutral position, I can’t do it. He knows me too well.

I see the minuscule widening of his eyes as understanding dawns on him. He gives me a bitter smile, his words just as glacial as he says, “So, you’re okay with dying, but you don’t want to watch me die. How interesting.”

He presses the barrel of the gun more firmly under his chin, and I clench my teeth. My heart pounds in my chest so violently, I hear the blood pushing through my veins. I inhale slowly through my nose, but I feel the slight tremor in my lips, even with them pressed so tightly together. The job. Family. Loyalty.

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