Fear sparks in her light sea green eyes.
“You need to leave,” I say.
“There are more polite ways to make that happen, Damian.”
Her scolding tone almost dragsanothergoddamn smile out of me. But I shut it down. I have to.
I just stare.
She lifts her chin. “I’m here doing you a favor. But fine, suit yourself.”
She moves past me—close enough that if I reached out, I could catch her by the waist. Feel her through that stupid sweater.
I step back before I do something I shouldn’t.
“I know the way,” she says, probably thinking I’m stepping aside to show her out.
Not because being close to her makes something in my chest twist painfully. I don’t answer. I can’t.
Business comes first.
After twenty minutes of beating the fuck out of Leon Marone, I believe him when he says he doesn’t know who was behind the attack that made me an outcast and scarred me for life.
He stares up at me from the dank floor of the abandoned warehouse, blood dripping down his face.
“Please, Damian.” He gasps. “Puh-please.”
“You know I can’t let you go,” I snarl, wiping my hands on a bloody rag. “You’d go running back to the Family. Tell them the Beast has risen from the grave. That it’s time to gear up and find where he’s holed up. Time to go to war. But the war starts when I say it starts.”
“I won’t say anything,” he whimpers.
My nerves hum, a craving to fight something real clawing under my skin.
“Even if I believed that, I still couldn’t let you go, Leon.”
“You can,” he pleads.
“I know what you did to those girls,” I growl.
Even through swelling, shock hits his face. “What girls?”
“Don’t play dumb. The oh-so caring boss covered it up. His most loyal men covered it up. But I’ve had a lot of time on my hands in the afterlife, Leon, and I know that there were two girls. Two innocent girls. And I know how badly you hurt them. I know you enjoyed it too.”
“No,” he whispers, broken.
“I read the police report from the surviving girl… the one that magically vanished. I know you laughed while she screamed.”
“Damian—”
I shake my head. “You’re not dealing with Damian right now.”
He lifts his hands, the cuffs rattling, clasping his palms together and staring at me with a pathetic plea in his sadist’s eyes. “Buh-Beast. Please.”
“You should know me better than that by now.” I reach into my jacket and take out my gun. “When has begging ever worked? Why do you think it will now?”
I press the barrel of the gun against his forehead.
He sobs, tears carving clean pathways down the blood on his cheeks. “Any last words?”
