Page 37 of Fragile Union

They glance at each other, I see the anger, resentment, and determination in their eyes. They're not going to go down easy.

"Excellent," I state with a fucking grin. "I was hoping you'd take the second option."

My men chuckle when I unsheathe my knife from the holster. "It's playtime," I say with a wicked smile.

I move toward the biggest and strongest of the two men, his arms and torso covered in tatts, all detailing his life with the Bratva. His muscles tense even more the closer I get toward him. "I know you bastards love the pain, I know that if I were to cut your fingers or toes off, you wouldn't give a fuck. Hell, you'd probably smile while I was doing it."

The smug smile he has tells me that I'm right.

"What about if I take your ear?" I ask with a raised brow and I enjoy watching that smugness fall from his face. "What will you do then? Hmm, I guess there's only one way to find out." I move behind him, I've got at least four inches on the bastard, so it's easy for me to reach him. He flinches when I touch his ear.

This is what I love. The fear. I thrive from it. This is what I crave. The need to see someone in pain, the urge to take their life. I have the compulsion to watch them take their last breath. Only one thing better than hearing the gasps of someone dying, it's hearing Holly as she comes. My fucking wife is my light. The only good that I have in this world. She's something to be cherished, to be adored and yet, these motherfuckers took a shot at her.

My knife hits his skin and the asshole starts to struggle. My laughter is hollow and sadistic. Nothing these bastards do will ever make me stop. The only way that'll happen is when they take their last breaths and that'll be after I have dished out the justice Holly deserves.

I slice through his skin as though it's butter, when I reach the bone and cartilage I add pressure. Our men all wear the same expression, smugness. They all have their arms crossed over their chests, their feet spread apart as they glare at the bastards hanging. It doesn't take long until I've sliced his ear off.

I move so that I'm facing them both, the prick's ear in my hand, I hold it up like a trophy and show them. Their faces pale at the sight. "This is only the beginning, I assure you; what I have planned for you both will just get worse. Now, are you ready to talk?"

Again, their stubbornness sets in and I move to the next guy. He's slimmer, less muscle and even smaller than the first guy. I look him over and decide that it's time to take their tattoos. It's the ultimate disrespect as they've earned them. Especially the stars on their knees. It means that they'll not bow to anyone, they've earned that right. These two bastards are higher up the food chain of the Russian Mafia. But still not that high, they're doing drive by shootings like they're amateurs.

"Have it your way." I throw the ear beneath their feet and get started on ridding these assholes of their stars. Skinning someone isn't easy, it's taken years of practice. The first time I did it, it was a fucking mess. Blood everywhere, the fucker died not long afterward. I didn't prolong the pain and it took me three more attempts before I learned the error of my way and realized what I was doing wrong.

Now, well now, I slice their skin away as though I'm carving meat. It comes away from the bone easily.

"Podonok," he spits out in Russian. I give him a blank stare. Do I look like I give a fuck what he's saying in his native tongue? "Fucker," he says in English.

I move to his other knee and start to slice that one. "You're a dead man," his accent thick and filled with pain.

"Funny," I mutter, "coming from the man that's hanging in a warehouse. I hope you kissed your wife and kids goodbye before you left today." Blood pours from his kneecaps, the skin gone and now all that remains is muscle, bones and blood.

"Pizda," he spits at me.

I laugh. "Told you asshole, this is only the beginning."

* * *

Three hourslater and these bastards still haven't given up who the fuck ordered the hit on us, or what the hell they're doing working with the Daminis. I'm glad they haven't. I'm enjoying slicing them open. It's been a while since I unleashed the beast that's hidden deep inside.

The men are panting, their body's dripping with blood, sweat, and piss. I've taken the majority of their tattoos. It pissed them off, the Russian's work hard to earn their stripes so to say, getting tattoo's means that you have proven your worth that you're somebody and I have taken everything from them. That's got to fucking sting. But they shouldn't have shot my wife.

"Now, as you have realized, I wasn't lying. I could spend the rest of the evening doing this." It's almost three in the damn morning and I want to see my wife. "But I don't think anything I do is going to make you talk. That's why I've decided to switch things up."

I click my fingers and Dante chuckles, my brother has stayed silent throughout it all. He let me lead. I know he's watching me carefully, waiting to see if I crack. That's not going to happen. I don't break. I don't fucking shatter. I'm not fragile. I'm a motherfucking monster that will do whatever the hell it takes to protect my woman.

Bosco moves forward, an electronic tablet in his hand, the screen on and our man standing by waiting for the word.

As Holly is mine, I have both Irish and Italian men with me. They fucked with the wrong family, that's for fucking sure.

Petrov, the man that lost his ear sucks in a sharp breath as his eyes focus on the tablet screen. "Nyet," he roars, his face red, his eyes wild. "No, leave them alone."

"Tell me why you're working with the Daminis?"

He glances at his friend and finally there's only despair in his eyes. "Maruzzo Damini is an asshole," his breathing is hard and coming out in pants, it's making his accent thicker and harder to understand. "He and your father worked together, worked with us. Bringing women from US to Europe."

"Trafficking?" I snarl at him and he nods. "Bastards."

Anger flashes in his eyes, "We make good money. It's a good system, easy to get them, easy to ship them. Win - win. Until your father died, now Damini thinks he can control the shipments." He turns his nose up in disgust. "Never going to happen. He came to us, told us that if we didn't help him deal with thatsuka, he'd take his business else...."

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