“What’s your plan from here?” he questions like he’s waiting for my input.
“Destroy them.” My statement sharp and to the point. I stare at him, the hidden question in my silence. Will I really get to, or will he swoop in and save my brother?Will he stop me at the last minute? Only this time will I take him out if he tries?
He gives me a feral grin. “Make it hurt like only you can.” I nod, stand and fasten my jacket, turn and head back out of the office. I need to hit something or someone. I need to feel bones crunch and blood spill to ease me after my interaction with my father. I need violent chaos.
I head out to my car, my mind racing with possibilities, as I slide inside, starting the car, I rev the engine. Fury burns through me, and I just drive. Streets blur, darkening around me as I need to release his pent-up anger. I step harder on the throttle. Squealing tyres become my soundtrack as I lose myself in the adrenaline.
I pull up outside the bar. I look around. I don’t remember driving here. I’m still so angry. Normally, I’m indifferent, but my father striking me, that shit is wearing thin. I climb out of the car, surveying the area, scanning to see if there is anyone around, but it’s empty.
The streets are quiet; this is a seedy part of town where all the lowlifes hang out, but when you want a brawl, you have to go where they are. I step out of the car and remove my jacket, folding it up neatly and placing it on the passenger seat. I undo each button on my cuff and roll up my sleeves—a sort of ritual, if you will. Clicking the door closed, I stand and face the bar, crack my neck and step forward.
I push through the door. The stale stench of tobacco and beer engulfs me. My nose curls as I step across the sticky floor and further into the dingy establishment. I head straight to the bar. The bartender takes a glass and places it down. I shake my head. “Just give me the bottle.”
I point behind the bar. It makes no difference what I drink in this shithole. Everything will taste like piss. I toss my card down on the counter, and his eyes go wide before snatching it up and running it. He hands it back, his eyes widening as he looks at the name.
“We don’t want any trouble, sir,” he stutters out.
“Unlucky, that’s all I’m here for.” I snatch the bottle from the bar and walk over to the secluded booth in the corner. I wedge myself into the back seat and rest back against the wall. I chug from the bottle. The spicy hot liquid slides over my tongue, leaving it tingling as I relish in the burn of it.
“Well, hello there, handsome.”
“No.”
“No?” she huffs. “Well.” She mutters but still stands there.
“I said no. Now fuck off.”
She gasps but turns away. I swig another drink, then another, until the walls start to feel a little closer. More stifling. My nerves already on edge from my interaction with Father start to settle as I survey the surrounding people, before my gaze fixates on my targets. I stand and walk past the pool table, clumsily bumping into a few guys as I stumble past, not because I’m drunk. Because I’m an asshole, and men do like to think they’re superior, stronger and tend to end up posturing when with other reprobates. Assuming I’m drunk, vulnerable and an easy target will get me what I want. As if on cue. One guy jumps up as I stumble past.
“Fucking watch it.” I turn, smirk and flip him off, continuing to stumble down the corridor towards the bathroom. I stand at the urinal, take my dick out, piss andwait. As if on cue, the bathroom door slams open. I slowly turn around, slipping my dick away. Two of the fuckers step inside wielding pool cues, and I snarl at them as one turns and clicks the lock on the main door.
“You wanna watch it, asshole,” the fucking hillbilly says, and I glare at him.
“Or what?” I taunt. He lunges for me, clearly unable to contain his anger. Rage etched across his features and in the tension of his shoulders as he swings the cue at me. I curl to the side before I lurch forward and punch him straight in the face. The crunch caresses something dark inside of me as the shrill scream spills out of him, echoing around the grubby tiled walls. The fluorescent lighting flickers.
He drops to the floor dramatically, wailing as he rolls around clutching his face. Blood splashes the grimy tiles as the cue skitters across the floor.
“Motherfucker,” the other spits and lunges.
I step to the side as he starts swinging and flapping his cue around in front of me. I snatch him up by the throat. My other hand clutching at his wrist with the cue in. I squeeze, and he screams out as the cue crashes to the ground. “Should have stayed outside,” I grit out.
I step into his personal space, chest to chest, and slam my head into his, my forehead colliding with his nose. It splits, spreading across his face. Blood pours into his mouth as tears stream down his cheeks. I lean in and lick up his face, shuddering at the taste of his tears. “So fucking perfect.”
I crush his wrist with a satisfying crunch of bone. Releasing it, I snatch at his shirt, yanking him back to me as he falls away, only to pull him back onto my fist. It slamsinto his cheek with an excruciating crack. I smile as I tug him back and crash my fist into his face again. I let go, and he drops to the floor as the first guy scrambles up.
He runs at me, and I step to the side. I grab the back of his neck as he goes past me, my hand wrapping around it. I yank him to the urinal and slam his face down, crashing it into the rim. The shattering crunch is delicious. The blood explodes out and gushes across the floor. I slam him into the rim again. I lift him up, his eye socket smashed, his face caved in, but I slam him down again, and then again. His wheezing soon stops as I toss him onto the floor.
Blood pools from him, his face unrecognisable, stoved in. The edge of the urinal slightly cracked, leaving a void in his features where his face used to be. The mush that is left now oozes out, and I can’t help the grin that spreads across my features. I step over the guy to the sink and rinse off my fingers. I wash my hands before stepping up to the dryer. I glance around.
One is dead, one left writhing, I walk over and kick the one writhing in pain in the ribs. I stamp down on his face. I nod to myself.That’ll do!
I step out of the toilets and stroll straight out of the back door. Heading around to my car, feeling the tension dissipate. That is just what I needed. I flex my hand and relish in the tightness of my knuckles, the tingle in my fingers and the calm it all brings, feeling like a reset button has just been pressed.
Arianna
Chapter Fifteen
When I open the door, Matteo is waiting for me, leaning against the wall, staring at his fingernails. His gaze flicks to mine, and I assess his features. A hint of something flashes in his eyes, but it’s gone before I can grasp what it is. He nods, a slight flush tinges his neck, and creeps up his cheeks even though his face remains impassive.
