Page 67 of The Russian's Forced Bride
And if anything, his apologies for betraying Arlette in the first place only fueled my anger.
I dropped the bat, grabbing a fistful of his shirt as I stared into his squinted eyes, wearing a malignant smile on my face while I swung my fist into his face continuously—relishing the sound of his bones popping beneath my flesh and his blood gushing all over me until he went limp, his body slumping onto the ground and his breaths coming out ragged and erratic.
“I told you all you’d die if you as much as touched her,” I sneered, straddling his half-dead body before delivering the final blow that pummeled his disfigured face and ended him.
Satisfied, I left his body, wiping off the smear of his blood that trickled down my face like sweat, my chest heaving as a metallic stench hovered over the room, intoxicatingly.
And though I wanted to revel in Mateo’s death like the psychotic man I was, the sound of Arlette sobbing caught my attention.
Furthermore, Joaquin hadn’t been in the room like I had hoped. So I had to get Arlette out before finding him and ending him just like I did to his nephew.
I wasted no time as I rushed to Arlette’s side, my blood-soaked hands cupping her cheeks and trying to soothe her.
“You’re okay,kroshka,” I rasped, pressing my lips against her forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I had to kill him.”
She leaned against me, still tied up, and her tears soaked my shirt while I reached over, untying the knot of the rope and setting her free. She immediately collapsed in my arms, sobbing about Mateo. I let her cry, all the while wondering why Joaquin had not come in yet.
The sooner we ended this, the better.
Chapter 24 – Arlette
I watched him die and could do absolutely nothing about it.
I had never thought I’d care if the man who had pretended to be my brother died. I was so sure my heart was full of hatred for him, but I couldn’t help the scream that erupted from my throat when Rafael slammed his head with a bat like he was hitting a baseball.
It was scary watching Mateo’s face get bashed and beaten to a pulp. And there was so much blood, accompanied by the horrifying sound of his bones crunching and cracking. I watched the scene with horror, unable to peel my eyes away from the grisly sight.
Mateo’s body, which was slumped on the ground some feet from the storage shelf, now began to form a pool of crimson red, and it almost felt like I couldn’t breathe as I stared into his pummeled face.
Even though he had wronged me, I couldn’t help but feel pity for Mateo. His whole life, he had been Joaquin’s pawn, and a small part of me still thought of Brandon Orozco, my little brother. But now they were both gone.
I sobbed uncontrollably as memories of Brandon and me flashed through my head. Right before he died, our eyes had met, and I could swear that I saw a hint of regret flash through his eyes.
It was all make-believe, but I truly loved him.
As Rafael now clung to me, working to untie my bonds, I could feel the bloodlust oozing off him. It was thick, making me shiver when he touched me with his stained hands.
I knew Rafael was a hardened killer, but watching him in action unlocked a new type of fear in me, making me wonder why I had been so brazen and rude to him from the beginning.
But as repulsed as I was watching him kill, I felt safe in his arms—until the door to the room creaked open, causing Rafael to disengage from my embrace, stepping in front of me and pushing me away from view.
With his face turned toward Mateo’s dead body at the other end of the room, Joaquin walked in slowly, hands clasped behind his back, while the discordant sound of shots firing outside filled the room.
“What a waste,” Joaquin mused, now turning his attention to Rafael and me. “Don’t you think so, my friend?”
I grimaced at Joaquin’s dehumanization of his own nephew’s life. I already knew that Mateo was nothing more than a foot soldier for him, but hearing him actually confirm that was gut-wrenching to say the least. He didn’t care that his nephew was now a corpse, bleeding dry onto the concrete floors that seemed to suck in his blood.
“I’m going to kill you, just like I did your nephew,” Rafael threatened darkly, and from behind me, he balled his fists, ready to strike at Joaquin, who then smiled eerily.
“The plan was to have you here anyway, so I could cut you up like I did to that brat’s mother.” Joaquin pointed at me, then added, “And when I’m done with you, I’ll relish the intimacy of killing her as well.”
My blood shuddered right as Rafael lunged at Joaquin, who suddenly pulled out a knife, its sharp tip glinting even with the room’s dim lighting, and he swung it toward Rafael’s face.
Slash.
The knife seemed to cut across a part of Rafael’s face, and his blood splattered onto the door they stood in front of. A shrill scream escaped from my lips while they continued to fight.
It wasn’t like Rafael’s fight with Mateo, where he’d quickly gained the upper hand. Joaquin was just as good as Rafael—and faster.
