Page 94 of His Dark Vendetta

They tugged at Ciarán’s arms and moved for the door, but after a few steps, he shook them off and marched toward it himself.

“Fuck this,” he said and stopped with his hand on the knob. “I want my gun. And my phone.”

Durand gestured to the waitress behind him. She lowered her ear, nodded, and retrieved the dropped phone, returning it to its owner.

“You may pick up your gun tomorrow after you’ve collected yourself, Monsieur Shaughnessy,” Durand said coolly.

Ciarán landed a death glare on me. The hate in his eyes matched the hate in my heart. No one stood between us except Durand’s guard, and his attention was focused on Ciarán.

I let my power fly, and my eyes flared. I cocked my lip, baring my left fang. I tongued the tip and winked. His eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped, but then his features hardened, and he flung the door open and stormed out, slamming it behind him.

I had him, and this revenge would be sweeter than I imagined, because I would drag it out, a long, slow punishment while I collected evidence of his involvement with the feds. I’d prolong his pain with every picture and every video I sent him of me owning Siobhán. And once I found proof? I’d put a bullet between his eyes.

The adrenaline rush from driving the stake into his heart tonight combined with the anticipation of twisting it over and over again made me eager to get out of there and begin his torture.

I closed my lips over my fangs, rolled my shoulders, and took a couple deep breaths to get my eyes under control.

“Messieurs,” Assane Durand said, “it seems our game has come to an unexpected end. S’il vous plaît, collect what is yours.”

The other players stood, polished off their drinks, and gathered their cash. I walked back to my seat at the poker table under the assault of Durand’s unwavering golden stare.

“Monsieur Moretti. Consider tonight a warning. Next time, I won’t be as patient.”

Durand never broke eye contact, and I swear he never blinked. It was unnerving. I gave him a deferential nod, and finally, he released me. He stood, buttoned his suit jacket, and left the table, making his way to the doors at the back of the suite without further ado.

“Fucking hotheads,” Vito grumbled.

I picked up my cash and tucked it into my jacket, too focused on the satisfaction of fucking with Ciarán Shaughnessy to register Vito’s words.

“Luca,” Vinnie said.

He stood at the table where Durand’s men opened the safe with our guns. His tight expression gave nothing away and left me wondering if I’d passed his test or if I was about to get reamed.

I met him at the table, and the guard handed me my piece. I tucked it into my holster, buttoned my suit coat, and followed Vinnie out of the suite.

He clasped my shoulder and squeezed. “Well played. See what happens when you follow the rules?”

We stopped at the elevators. Not many people were taller than me, but Vinnie had me by an inch. He arched a dark eyebrow beneath his slick salted hair. “Don’t let Marco find out,” he said in a warning tone. “You might be playing by the rules, but that doesn’t mean you won’t piss him off. And he’s the last person you want to piss off.”

The elevator dinged.

We rode to the ground floor in silence, my mind’s singular focus on my next move. Vengeance was within reach, and I wasn’t about to let it slip through my fingers just to appease Marco. Fuck him.

* * *

“Siobhán!”

I stormed into the kitchen from the garage, my insides heated from stewing for the hour and a half it took me to drive from Worcester to Saugus. I tossed my jacket over a chairback.

“Siobhán!” I shouted up the stairs and went back into the kitchen for a glass of scotch.

My body vibrated with anticipation and my mind raced, but I needed a drink to settle my stomach as much as my nerves. Nausea cut through my excitement every time I thought about the video I was about to record and send to that prick from Siobhán’s phone.

“Siobhán!” I shouted again.

The French doors slid open, and Siobhán stepped into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing her eyes. “Luca?”

A knot formed in my chest centered around my heart. She had on my old college hoodie again, the one that was too big on her and ended below her shorts. One of the sleeves fell past her hand. The other one she held scrunched up in her fist. She shuffled toward me with sleepy eyes and a guilty smile.

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