Carlyle
“Idon’t recognize any of these girls, Carlyle. Do you know how many I see on a weekly? And that’s even considering she crossed my desk.” Folding my legs under me, I ignored Esmarissa’s exasperated complaining for the moment as I set my gaze on these girls. We’d traded the nice day and fresh air for concrete walls and a steel door. I’d been down in this basement far too often lately. On the other side of the wall, the pained cries and sobs of those men being tortured filtered through the thick concrete, and each of Oran’s sluts clearly knew something was up.
Although, I could see the one looked a little more nervous than the others, trying too hard to seem just the right amount of worried and failing hard.
“It doesn’t matter who did it, Carlyle. What’s the point of trying to find out?” Oran’s voice was deadpanned, and my eyes narrowed as they flickered between all the girls. The one he’d had the longest, probably the one he confided in the most, cast him a look, and I cocked my head. These girls were not stupid by any means, even if they were quite a bit over the line separating rubbing his feet and licking them.
“There is no point that’ll matter in the end, Oran, but I still want to know . . . which one of you is a spy for the Italians.” All eyes were suddenly on me, and I clenched and released my jaw as three of the girls simultaneously jolted in shock. Training my gaze on the fourth, situated in the middle as if it’d help her blend in, I couldn’t help the malicious smirk stretching my lips. She went pale, a shiver jerking her shoulders, and her girlfriends’ eyes all moved to her in unison.
“Roquelle. I bought her at an auction about two years ago.” It fit the timeline, and Oran’s voice dropped low with betrayal, although, I wasn’t sure what he expected. He screwed up these girls, who didn’t want to be sex slaves. He gave them good treatment, bonded with them— essentially, they were with him because of a particular form of Stockholm Syndrome. Nodding with a grunt, I glanced at my brother as his expression turned to stone to hide his realization.
No matter how much he messed with them, these girls always had the ability to betray him.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her before. If she did come across my desk, I dismissed her.” Esmarissa’s input was nil, and Oran shuffled to his girls to very gingerly touch their cheeks one after another— but not Roquelle’s. His shoulders curled, his back showing what his face wouldn’t, and my heart ached for him. It must’ve been awful to be in a situation like this— that much, I recognized.
But my brother did this to himself.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Whispering the question to the girl he was closest to, Oran caressed down her neck, and she noticeably gulped.
“I told you I didn’t like her. I didn’t know why, so you dismissed it.” My brows twitched in surprise at that, and I frowned deeply as the nameless face twisted in sadness. “I don’t want to die for your mistake.”
“I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.” Her sad smile widened slightly as Oran wrapped both his hands around her neck and rubbed her jaw with his thumbs. “I’m sorry.”
“I hope you live a long, long time.” She leaned forward and kissed him, and my stomach roiled even as I refused to look away. Oran’s fingers flexed, and the soft sound of her breaths turned to wheezes as her face tinged pink. They stared each other right in the eyes the entire time, and only when her orbs rolled back did he snap her neck with a deft jerk.
And she crumpled to the floor, the only sound in the room being her head smack against the concrete.
My brother repeated the action three times, saving a shivering, crying Roquelle for last as she struggled to stand. The arteries and muscles in his neck bulged with his effort to contain himself, and Oran sniffed hard and loud as he rolled his shoulders.
“It’s my fault, I know, but if you’d told me, we could’ve worked something out, and you would be able to live. They all could’ve lived.” Oran’s voice trembled, first with unfathomable sadness, but it slowly morphed into anger that rang in the concrete room. Across the wall, Vanessa’s gleeful giggles only added to the tense atmosphere, and I unfurled my legs to cross my ankles. Gripping the edge of the table as the world stilled, I clenched my jaw hard before Oran just . . . snapped.
He backhanded the girl across the face so hard she fell over the body to her right, and the audiblesnapof bone echoed in my ears. She cried out, holding her face as she tumbled to the floor, and Oran straddled her to land punch after punch on her. Grunting with the effort, he heaved his whole body into the power behind his fists, and his rage radiated from him in palpable waves.
Oran grabbed Roquelle’s head in both his palms to smash it against the concrete, and his bloodcurdling, gut-wrenching scream could probably be heard all the way on the third floor. Her brains seeped out of her ears and between his fingers, the smell of her death mixing with the others in the room, but the stench of blood was all her. Solemn, silent, I watched him struggled to his feet only to fall back onto his knees before he pummeled her still chest.
Turning to Esmarissa as she watched in horror, I frowned under furrowed brows as I contemplated what to do with her. If she became more of a problem, she’d very well end up down here, and I was going to make itexplicitlyclear.
“Don’t ever get bratty with me again, or you’ll end up like her. The only difference is that I’ll do it myself.” She gulped, her blue hair shimmered when she nodded curtly, and I waved in dismissal. “Tell Carson I want all the dogs from his next litter. Leave, and you better make sure I don’t call you back.”
“Yes, sir.” Very meekly, Esmarissa walked out, and I slid off the table to walk over to Oran. Theo and I grabbed his arms, and he panted viciously as we dragged him off what bloody bits remained of Roquelle’s head and chest.
“Come on, little brother. We’ll give them a proper burial.” Knowing now that it truly and irrevocably was Oran’s fault, and that his little pets had tried to warn him, I actually felt a little bad. “Let’s go.”
“N-no! No!” Oran’s glasses weren’t anywhere to be seen, and I nodded at Theo when he started thrashing and screaming. Holding an arm back, I waited for Theo to get Oran in a headlock, and it honestly wasn’t that hard. My brother wanted to get back to Roquelle, to make her completely unrecognizable as a human being, and he barely even swung at us. Flailing about, his tears streamed down his face, and he rasped hard pants through flared nostrils as spit and snot dribbled down his chin.
“Yeah, take a nap . . . easy.” Sputtering hiccups, Oran went limp, and I released his arm before Theo slung him over his shoulder. “That wasn’t what I expected her to say.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. Oran should’ve listened to his pets. If they all said the same thing, they probably weren’t wrong. He’ll have to wrestle with it by himself.”
“Yeah. It just sucks ass that it had to be this way. If she did become a double agent, would you have used her?” Rubbing my jaw on the way out of the room, I shrugged carelessly. Pulling my cell out of my pocket, I quickly shot a text to Llane, and she replied almost immediately.
“I still would’ve killed her rather than risk being double-double crossed or whatever it is. The others, they would’ve lived. I think, for Oran, that’s the part he can’t stand. He could’ve prevented this, but his arrogance and high-horse attitude got in the way. Like Illya said; hopefully, he’ll learn some humility and be a little more humble and self-accepting. I’m not sure what he’ll do next, but I honestly don’t care. All my business is done. Once you drop him off with Llane, go make arrangements with Illya. You never know when someone else might come in and fuck you up.” Theo didn’t offer a reply, and I punched the elevator button with my thumb to lean against the concrete wall and run my palms up my face. “I think I’ll do the same. I owe Valerie and Natasha a trip to Vegas.”
