Page 63 of Fractured Vows (Fraser Crime Syndicate 1)

“You left it in the hotel.”

Her brow furrows. “You kept hold of it all this time?”

I’m not sure how to explain it without sounding like a lunatic, so I shrug. “I liked having a piece of you with me.”

Her expression softens as she takes the bracelet from me. “It was my mother’s.”

Guilt claws at me that I kept it this long. I brush her hair away from her face and kiss her forehead. “I shouldn’t have kept it.”

She shakes her head. “It’s okay. Thank you for returning it.”

I pull her against me and listen while her breathing starts to even out. I never thought I could find such peace just sitting with someone. Usually, my peace comes from violence. That has been the only way to soothe my broken soul.

My phone vibrates on the arm of the chair next to me. I move carefully, realising my wife is still asleep, and I pick up the handset. Charlotte’s name flashes on the screen. The last person I want to speak to is my fucking mother. I consider letting it go to voicemail, but she’ll just keep calling.

I slide my finger across the screen and take the call.

“When, precisely, were you going to tell me that one of our men betrayed us?” she demands, sounding ticked off.

“There wasn’t exactly time to call a family fucking meeting,” I snap at her. I’m not in the mood for Charlotte’s shit right now.

“I am still the head of this fucking family, and I deserved to know.”

Anthony might think he runs the family, but clearly Charlotte doesn’t agree. We all know she wears the trousers, but though she dictates to my father which way things should go, it’s always sobering when she actually admits it.

“You know now.”

“Whatever you’re planning, I want to know.”

“The man took my wife. This is between me and him. Don’t get in my way, Mother.”

Before she can argue further, I hang up the phone. It starts to ring almost immediately. I think it’s Charlotte until I see Kane’s name flash on the screen. I answer quickly. “What do you know?”

“Weston picked up our package twenty minutes ago. Come to the warehouse.” He hangs up without saying anything further.

I carefully detach myself from Sariah. I gently lay her down on the sofa, covering her with a blanket, and then I leave. Winters insists on coming with me, even though I want to leave him behind to guard my wife. I need to get her security as soon as possible. I know she will be safe in the penthouse. The only reason she wasn’t before is because of Aaron’s duplicity.

As Winters pulls the car up outside the warehouse, righteous anger starts to attack my gut. I can’t wait to get my hands on that prick. I’m going to bleed him, carve at him, take all the anger I’m feeling out on his body.

Winters enters the warehouse before me, and I trail after him. When we get inside, I can smell the sweat. Kane better not have started without me. Not after he promised. As I step into the kill room, I see Aaron is tied to a chair. His head is bowed, his chest bare. He has trousers on, they have been cut up the legs. Though hurt, he looks whole. Good. Kane kept his promise.

My brother is leaning against the wall behind me and gives me a slight inclination of his head as I move further into the room. Red films my vision as I take in the man who betrayed us. When I step in front of him, Aaron raises his head and peers up at me. There is no fear in his eyes, despite the pain he knows I’m going to inflict on him.

“Why?”

Aaron shifts his shoulders. “Wood promised me things you could never deliver.”

I slam my fist into his face, making his neck snap to the side. “You disloyal bastard.”

All my rage, all my fear, explodes out of me. I beat the fuck out of him, my fists flying as I slam them over and over into his face and body. I want to inflict as much pain as I can. I want him to feel what I felt when I learnt about his betrayal.

Breathless, my knuckles burning, I step back and take a look at my handiwork. His face is swollen, his eyes already puffy. I pick up a knife from the table next to the chair and slam it into his thigh. He screams, a high-pitched wail that makes me smirk. Then I start to carve his legs up. I pull his skin back as I detach it from his muscles. He screams through the whole process, thrashing against the ropes holding him to the chair. I don’t give him a moment of reprieve. All I can think about is my sister lying unconscious on the floor of the cabin and my wife with a knife held to her throat. It fuels my anger and makes me feel deranged.

I get bored of the knife and pick up the blowtorch. It is one of my favourite instruments to use in torture. I light it up and then I push the flame against his chest. His shrieks ring out, a symphony that eases some of the tension in my chest. The smell of burning flesh fills the air, a sickly scent that would be repulsive if I wasn’t so focused on what I’m doing. He begs me to stop, pleads with everything he has. I ignore him. Betrayal is not something that can be forgiven. If he wanted more, he could have talked to one of us. We would have accommodated him. Instead, he handed my family over to our enemies, and that can’t be forgiven.

I torture him until his head is hanging low down on his chest and his breathing is rapid and shallow. I step back and Kane comes forward. He takes the knife out of my hand, and I let him, too exhausted to argue.

“Now it’s my turn.”

And as much damage as I thought I inflicted on Aaron Leep, Kane does worse.

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