Page 21 of Filthiest Of Them All

“That makes zero fucking sense,” Carnage roars. The guy takes a shuddering breath.

“I swear, that’s all I know. I’m just supposed to follow them and report back to her when I find their home base.” Rage overcomes me. I dart forward and grip the cocksucker by the throat, his eyes bulge as I cut off his airway.

“From now on you work for me. You report back to that bitch what I tell you to, am I clear?” He nods as best he can. I release him with a shove as he gasps and coughs. I turn to Vatican, he can see the look on my face and knows I’m about to resort to my old ways. “Get that fucker medical attention and bring that bitch to the house. I want to find out exactly what that cunt is up to.”

“I’m not letting you go after my sister,” Carnage snaps.

I pin the bastard with a look that urges him to try me on this one, because I’ll kill him where he stands. “We’re at war now. Your sister broke the agreement when she came for me. Choose a side, Carnage.” I press into him until we are chest to chest and eye to eye. “This time, when I turn my back on your family, none of you will be standing. She’s making moves without you.”

“She’s doing what she has too!” he defends.

I drop my tone to a whisper. “Why don’t you ask your darling sister what really happened to your father and how she became the Don.”

Tatum

After taking a shower in the room I first woke up in, I pull some clothes from the duffle bag, then climb onto the bed, still wearing the towel wrapped around my body and clutching the clothes in my hands, unable to find the will to change. Tears prick the backs of my eyes and I take a deep breath, trying to ward them off. I’m not the type of girl to cry. The fact Alexander is the one who is causing the urge to shed tears angers me further. My phone rings and I sigh, I may be kidnapped but unfortunately that doesn’t mean I can stop working. I find my daily cell inside the duffle and pull it out to see it's my boss.

With a sigh I answer the call. “Hey,” I say.

“What’s wrong?” Vivian asks.

“Nothing, just living my best life in the Bahamas,” I snark.

Vivian sighs. “I’m sorry Tate?—”

“For what? You didn’t kidnap me, that was all that asshole.” Bitterness laces my words.

“Can you talk?” I straighten and dart my gaze around the empty room.

“Yeah?”

“I’m working on a way to find you but unlike Alex I don’t have a hacker as good as Halo, so it may take us some time to find you.”

I reel back in surprise. “Why are you helping me?” I ask in disbelief.

“Because you’re my friend, Tate.” The honesty I hear in her words surprises me and honestly, floors me a bit.

“T-thank you but I wouldn’t waste your time. You can’t reach me where I am.” I explain how I’m surrounded by nothing but open land and woods and that the driveway is so long I gave up trying to escape. “He’s a fucking asshole. I want to slap him so fucking hard his teeth come loose,” I growl.

“Tate, are you attracted to Alex?”

I scoff and shake my head even though she can’t see me. “Fuck no, never. He’s hideous and I hate him.”

“Yes, you’ve said that but for someone who has been kidnapped you don’t seem desperate to leave him.”

I growl low. “Vivian, this isn’t some fucking love story where I fall in love with my captor. This is real life where the cunt uses me and then kills me because he wants to hurt my brother, who you hate as well, I might add.”

“Then answer me this, has your white knight of a brother tried to save you?” Her tone is loaded with accusation and I cringe when I recall my conversation with him from earlier. “I didn’t think so.” A knock sounds at the door.

“I have to go. I’ll finish the reports and email them to you and place the order for the restock at Lividica,” I say then end the call just as the door opens. Omen stands there staring at me with a mix of unease and loathing in his eyes. “I guess this is your room?”

He works his jaw side to side then nods. I sigh and stand, then stuff my clothes back into my duffle and zip it up. When I sling the bag over my shoulder and move toward him he raises his hands halting my movements.

“Why aren’t you changed?” he grits out.

“I was about to but then you knocked,” I answer.

He scrubs a hand down his face and sighs. “Get dressed, meet me in the living room.” He doesn’t wait for a reply, he just closes the door behind himself. I exhale and make quick work of changing and running my brush through my hair, then piling it into a messy bun on top of my head. I toss my bag in the corner of his room, then dump my towel in the hamper in his bathroom before heading out to the living room. I pause in the entryway and look between him and Pope. Omen has black hair, it’s long enough that it can be slicked back while Pope’s is short and brown in color. Pope has soft brown eyes, Omen’s are blue but you can see an edge of danger in Pope’s while Omen’s eyes are riddled with ghosts and pain. Out of the four of them, Omen is the one that scares me.

---