Page 4 of Filthiest Of Them All

“That’s my concern, not yours,” I bite out.

“It seems everything is always your call these days,” Pope snarks, earning a dark look from me.

“You got a problem with how I’m running things?” My tone is cool and filled with a challenge. We aren’t like most… I don’t even know what the fuck we are now since we broke off and are doing our own thing. I guess we’re a crew? Nah, we don’t need labels we’re just a family of fucked up misfits that run things in Denver.

“I got a problem with you bringing her to our home. She is his fucking blood and I don’t want anything to do with that cunt?—”

Before Pope can finish, I’m on my feet. He matches my move with a hard look on his face. I don’t rule my guys with fear. I may be the so-called leader of the Denver Kings but these guys are my equals which is why none of them fear me. They may fear my rage when I snap but they know I would never intentionally hurt them.

“She is the key to finding that fucking worm. I want him on my table so I can saw him limb from fucking limb like the rest of you.” Pope’s eyes darken with bloodlust, I may be The Butcher, but these four are just as hungry for blood as I am. “We need to play this fucking smart. We can do whatever the fuck we want in Denver, as per our deal, but he isn’t in Denver, is he?” I clip out. Pope’s eyes flicker but he’s too proud to back down. “We need her to bring him to us or we risk being caught and this time, I won’t be able to buy our fucking way out. I would rather be the one being butchered than work for them again.”

“I’ll never go back,” Omen grits out as he stands and places a hand on Pope’s shoulder, forcing him to reclaim his seat.

“We end this fucking thing soon,” Vatican says.

I nod. “As soon as we get home, Halo will start tracking and narrowing down where the fucker could have gone.” Halo grunts his agreement.

“He’s smarter than we thought,” Omen announces as he claims his seat. I mimic his move and nod stiffly, hating to admit that the little cocksucker has eluded us for this long. We thought after Thomas was taken by the CIA and the Haven Saints were brought down by Vivian Tempest, that Nexus would be forced out of hiding thanks to all his friends getting arrested. It’s no secret that Vivian and the Filthy Few want him dead, so I know for a fact that they aren’t the ones aiding him.

Speaking of Vivian, she won’t be pleased that her general manager will be away from work for the foreseeable future, but she knows she fucking owes me and unless she wants me hunting her boyfriends, she will honor our deal and keep her fucking nose out of my business. I may have a soft spot for the girl because she reminds me of my sister, but that won’t save her from my wrath if she gets in my way.

Tatum

My head feels like someone is jack hammering it from the inside of my brain. My throat is drier than a nun’s pussy and I don’t have enough spit to swallow and moisten the fucking thing. I gather my willpower and slowly blink my eyes open, only to slam them closed again when a sharp pain starts making itself known in the back of my skull. I take another minute to breathe through the pain and slowly blink my eyes open again. The pain is still present but it's more of a dull ache now. I look around and frown. Where the fuck am I?

I sit up and swallow my gasp, I’m lying on a fucking bed!

I leap off the thing and instantly regret it when my head begins to spin and the ache starts pounding again. I clasp my head between my hands and grit my teeth through the wave of pain. When it finally subsides enough I search through my memory of what the hell happened.

Alexander!

“Son of a bitch!” I snarl.

“Don’t call my mother a bitch.” I whirl around and fight the haze of dizziness that washes over me from the sudden movement. I sway on my feet and have to reach out to steady myself on the edge of the bed. When I gather myself, I turn my head and glare at the infuriating Aztec god standing in the doorway. His hair is loose and sits around his shoulders, the top pushed back, no doubt from him combing his fingers through it. He’s changed. He’s wearing a pair of black sweats and a gray cotton shirt that is pulled taut over his chest. “Here,” he says as he walks toward me with a glass of water. My mouth waters at the sight of it. I want to smack the glass out of his hand but I bite back my pride and snatch it from him.

“Asshole,” I bite out as I bring the glass to my lips.

“Wait, take these.” He extends his other hand to show me two white pills sitting in the palm of his hand.

“No.”

“They’ll help with the side effects,” he grits out through clenched teeth.

Rather than answering him I keep my eyes locked on his as I greedily drain the glass. When I’m done, I make a show of sighing just to be a brat. “Only one glass?” I taunt.

His eyes narrow into slits. “You’ll be the one in pain now,” he snaps.

“Pain is a reminder of what you have survived.” He cocks his head to the side, studying me for a moment. His gaze is unnerving but it's more than that. I don’t know what it is but when Alexander looks at you, it's like he’s trying to peel back the layers of your armor. Almost like he is trying to see through the bullshit to analyze the real person beneath the persona we all put on for the world to judge us by.

It’s fucking creepy, to say the least!

“Who hurt you?” His question floors me and has my knees so weak to the point I have no choice but to plop my ass on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t move or try to fill the charged silence, he just stands staring down at me expectantly like I owe him an answer.

“Where am I?” I counter.

He pinches his lips to the side and hardens his gaze but allows the change of topic. “You’re in my house.”

Swallowing razor blades would have gone smoother than his answer. “Why?” I dart my gaze around the room and take in the minimal furniture and decorations. The walls are bare of any pictures, the paint a dull gray color. The sheets I sit on now are an emerald green, and aside from the bed and two dressers there isn’t much in here, not even a rug.

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