His expression darkens.
“Did you think you could take me down and win her back? That I would be a footnote in your story?”
Noah presses his mouth into an angry line.
I chuckle. “I’ve dealt with men like you before, Noah. Do you know what you all have in common? You don’t have what it takes. That’s why London chose me. It doesn’t matter what you do or what you try to take, she will never go back to you.”
I hand Katia the knife and lean back to look at him. “You had her, and you fucked it up. How does it feel to know thatyou’rethe footnote?”
Noah pulls his lips back and glares at me with hatred in his eyes. “Fuck you.”
I bark out a laugh and shoot Katia an amused look. “I think I hit a nerve.”
“She will never accept who you are.” Noah’s voice climbs higher with each word. “You’re delusional if you think this ends any other way.”
My expression hardens. “I’ll just have to make sure it does, won’t I? Either way, I doubt you’ll be around to see it.”
Some of the color drains from Noah’s face, and his shoulders sag. “You won’t hurt me. London will never forgive—”
“She already knows I have you,” I interrupt coyly. “She might have begged for your life, but she knows you betrayed her. And she didn’t try to stop me from questioning you.”
“I don’t believe you.”
I scoff and punch him in the stomach, and he wheezes out a breath. “I don’t give a shit.”
I land another blow to his stomach, and he coughs. Then I circle him, watching as beads of sweat form on his forehead andslide down his face. When I press myself against his back and yank back his head, he sucks in a breath, and I can almost taste his fear. I release him and move back to the front, eyeing him with thinly veiled disgust.
Noah is barely holding himself together, and I know the anticipation is killing him.
It’s my most effective form of torture.
Let the bastard wonder what I’m going to do next.
I know I can’t push him past a certain point, but I can at least enjoy watching him squirm.
He will pay for every bit of pain he’s inflicted on London.
I reach out a hand, and Noah flinches and turns his head to the side. When he squeezes his eyes shut, I wait. As soon as one eye pries open, I land a punch to his jaw, and little pinpricks of pain dance up my arm. I throw another punch, and this time I hear a sickening crunch as bright red blood drips from his nose and onto the floor.
Noah winces. I hit him again, this time focusing on the side of his face. It isn’t long before his face is covered in blood, and his breath is shallow and uneven. Still, it isn’t enough to quell the bloodlust rising within me, and the image of London’s hurt face playing on a loop in my head.
Rage pumps through my veins as I focus on the feeling of my fist connecting with his face.
I blink, and Noah’s bruised, bloodied face swims into my field of vision.
The smell of blood fills my nostrils.
Noah doubles over as I land another punch to his stomach, and he coughs, spittle and blood staining the floor at his feet. Then, I yank Noah’s head back and wait for him to focus. As he does, he offers me a grim smile that surprises me.
He’s harder to break than I thought.
I’d be impressed if I weren’t so livid.
Most men would’ve broken down in tears and offered me everything they owned by now.
How have I underestimated Noah?
I lower myself, so we’re at eye level. “You’re going to tell me exactly what you told your family about me.”
