Page 79 of Breaking Conviction
“I care about you too much to see you go through this again. I’d need to see you, but at the very, very least, please just take a day and think everything over first.”
“It’s done. I-I’m in love with him.” The last word dipped low and landed like an anvil on his chest.
She’s not lying.
“Goodbye, Snake.”
The call ended and Wes looked at his phone, completely dumbfounded by what he’d just heard, trying to make sense of it. Had she been deliberately pitching that last word to prove she wasn’t lying? Or maybe she was trying to prove she was?
His phone vibrated in his hand again and he immediately looked at the screen, cursing at the text before he opened it.
Hawk: Break’s over. Time to get back to work.
He desperately wanted to speak with Naomi, face to face, but she was refusing to see him and he still had a job to do. They needed to get answers out of Ascot before Wes tried to figure out his next steps with her.
Phoenix was an asshole about his temper, but what his teammates and Naomi didn’t understand was that Wes had never gotten violent with anyone who didn’t deserve it. Ascot fucking deserved it, but Wes wasn’t going to seriously injure an unarmed man.
But Ascot doesn’t know that.
Chapter Thirty-One
Wes stormed through the war room past Hawk and Devil to head for the basement trap door. Without looking at them, he opened up the app he’d set up on everyone’s phone in order to operate and lock the door, and punched in the code.
“Phoenix?” Devil asked.
“Not coming.”
For some reason, Phoenix always got to pussy out on shit like this. Hawk would let the man get away with murder.
The door hissed open and Wes slid down the ladder, with Hawk and Devil following closely behind. He hardly registered the blaring music echoing against metal walls and entered the second code on his phone to unlock the steel door, hiding the prisoner before wrenching it open.
“Turn it off! I can’t take it anymore!” Andrew Ascot’s face was red and his eyes were narrowed with frustration. Wes would’ve almost felt sorry for the guy after what they’d put him through, but Ellie’s friend Sasha, and God knew who else, had died thanks to Ascot and his associates. Fear was the only way to get these kinda men to crack.
Wes kicked the front of the man’s chair so that it tipped back violently and the metal slats landed on his handcuffed hands. Ascot howled in pain, almost in time with the music, until the throbbing beat silenced. Either Hawk or Devil must’ve thankfully turned that shit off.
“What the fuck do you know about the trafficking?”
“Nothing! I swear!”
Westskedharshly, but everything sounded much quieter now that the screaming music was gone. Using one of his steel-toed work boots, Wes toyed with a cut on Ascot’s face before applying some pressure. “Why won’t you tell us anything? You think your little friends are gonna come save you?”
Whimpers were muffled as Wes tore a small cut back open with the soul of his shoe. “I still don’t know why you’re so loyal to someone who’s gonna kill you. Judging from your dead friends, what we would do to you is child’s play. And yet you’re going to go squeal to them like the pig you are, right to your death.”
“Wh-what? H-he wouldn’t kill me!”
Wes landed his boot between Ascot’s legs on the edge of the chair seat. The man yelped and tried to protect the dick that’d gotten him into this mess.
Good. Fear of pain was always a much better motivator than the actual pain itself.
“You’re right to be afraid. I could stomp your balls into your lower intestines right now. I might even be doing you a favor. If you don’t have the urge anymore, maybe you won’t be tempted to steal and rape women.”
“He’ll f-find me, you know. And once he does… you’re all done for.”
Wes tilted his head with a glance to his friends standing behind him, arms crossed and faces grim. He was able to identify the same curiosity that he felt at the faith Ascot had in whoever he was protecting. No one else would be able to see their expression under their calm exterior, but Hawk and Devil were his brothers. He knew their faces better than his own.
They’d thankfully let him take the reins, which provided its own sense of silent encouragement. Having his friends’ trust gave him the confidence to believe he could remain under control.
With that in mind, Wes swung his leg up in the air and kicked it backward, making the heel slam into the chair seat, inches from Ascot’s crotch. The man screamed as Wes’s momentum brought the chair into an upright position before it teetered back and forth and settled on all four legs.
