Enzo smirks, the sick fuck, but I couldn’t help but smile too.
“That’s my wife.” My feet come to a stop in front of his dangling body. “Mywife!” I bellow, rage intensifying as I picture that bruise, those tears, and that terror. I react without thought, slicing the blade at an angle down the side of his face and taking off a chunk of flesh and muscle.
He screams. The flesh hits the concrete, landing in the puddle of piss with a wet slap.
“How many tears do you think that was worth?”
Enzo holds up three fingers.
“Only three,” I nod.
The man cries, wet, bloody tears dripping through the snot and drool. I lift my hand and press the tips of my fingers into the exposed wound, pressing so hard I feel his teeth pushing back on me.
“Who sent you?” I ask.
His mouth moves but no words come out. I lash forward again, stabbing the knife to the hilt into his abdomen. And then I do it again.
Blood spurts from his mouth, splattering across my face.
“You’ll kill him,” Atlas says calmly.
I had two others to use so I don’t stop. I slam it in again, again, until all I can hear is the wet tear of skin and the constant drip, drip, drip of blood as it leaks from his body and drops from my hand.
“Enough,” Asher tells me. But I’m the fucking king and it’s enough when I fucking say it’s enough. I slam the knife into his temple.
“How about now, Enzo?” I growl, “How many is that worth?”
He grunts in response and moves to take the body down. Once it’s clear I look over to the other two bodies in the room and smile when I spot one is already awake and looking over to us with a disgusted, horrified look. Terror was easy to recognize, it shone like a mirror except you couldn’t see yourself, but you could see everything that made up a person. And this man was terrified.
“Bring him up,” I order, “Let’s see how loose his tongue is.”
It was a set up.
The damn fire at the warehouse was a set up to get me out the house so they could take out a good chunk of my men and Amelia with it. They hadn’t succeeded of course but just knowing she had a target on her back was enough to want me to pack her up and ship her off until it was safe. But then I was selfish, and I wanted her with me.
While the warehouse had been used for the ploy, there were motives of course and after I was done with the bastards, Atlas showed me the recovered footage of the men transporting all of my goods out of the warehouse and into waiting lorries.
Thieving fucking assholes.
But these fucking assholes were winning at the moment.
It had long since fallen dark and the weather beyond the windows reflected the storm within. Rain lashes at the glass walls that made up one side of the house and pushing open a window, I listen to it falling and the chaotic crash of waves at the base of the cliff.
I taste the salty air on my tongue and let the rain drizzle against my skin until it cools, wetting the blood that still stains my body. With a heaving sigh, I turn and come face to face with Amelia.
She swallows as she takes in the caked blood on my face, the red crimson staining my hands and shirt. There was more but the black material of my suit hid it.
Her eyes track over every inch of me.
“Amelia.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” She whispers, stepping forward but hesitating.
“Nightmares?”
She shakes her head, eyes on the blood, “Who?”
“The men who wanted to hurt you.”