I’m impressed. “Well, that would’ve probably been less dramatic.”
A soft laugh falls from her lips, and I almost trip over my feet. I forgot how the sound of her laugh lifts the world off my shoulders for a moment. Makes me feel warm and alive.
The sense ofdeja vuis eroding reality around the edges. The ride was too quick. I don’t want to leave her.
As she shoves her key in the door with a shaky hand, I take her in, her delicate profile, her sweet, inviting scent, and her soft curves. I jam my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching out and pulling her into me.
What is happening to me? My self-control is hanging on by a thread right now.
When she opens the door, she finally looks up and meets my gaze. There’s barely a green ring around her enlarged pupils. Her skin is still so pale, it’s translucent. In her world, it’s not an everyday occurrence to have a gun pointed in your face. And that’s the world she should remain in.
Should I ask her if she wants me to stay?
“Are you going to kill that man?” she whispers.
Fuck.Out of all the questions she could ask, this is the wrong one. I don’t answer her, but she sees it in my eyes.
She nods sadly. “Goodnight, Sandro. Thanks for… being there.” She slips inside and closes the door.
I stand there for an embarrassingly long time, unable to move, unable to walk away knowing she’s so close. I rest my forehead on the door. Finally, I sigh and press my palm against it. “Goodnight, Angel.”
***
Striding into the soundproofed space, I nod at the soldier sitting in the chair, guarding the piece of shit I’m about to tear apart.
He’s been stripped naked and strapped to the back wall, a rag shoved in his mouth. I don’t particularly want to see this asshole’s limp dick, but the absolute sense of vulnerability being naked forces on my victims is worth it.
He’s shrieking at me and tugging on the leather bindings holding him in a starfish position. I walk over to the table and pick up four throwing knives.
A hot coal has been burning in my chest since I left Lennon, along with deep regret shredding my black heart to pieces. The Beast has turned his claws inward and wants blood.
Pivoting swiftly, I flick one knife after another in quick, brutal succession. His muffled shouting morphs into screams as they hit their mark, burying themselves deep—one in each shoulder and one in each thigh. I tilt my head from side to side, cracking my neck and rolling my shoulders. The tension hasn’t eased. I turn back to the table and grab a meat cleaver.
A chuckle comes from the soldier smoking in the corner.
When I reach the man, I grab the end of the knife lodged in his right shoulder, push and twist. A high-pitched cry sounds behind the cloth. A sheen of sweat covers his face and chest, his eyes wild with pain.
I pull the cloth from his mouth. My chest is heaving as I stare into his eyes. My lips curl into a ruthless grin. “You make a lot of noise for a dead man.”
He presses his lips together, a white ring forming around his mouth. Sweat drips down his face.
I drag the meat cleaver over the tattoo on his neck, pressing just hard enough to draw a few beads of blood. “The six-one-one. You assholes are getting bold. Okay, six-one-one. Do you know who I am?” My nostrils flare as the thick scent of his fear and piss wafts over me.
His Adam's apple bobs in his skinny throat as he grits his teeth through the pain. His eyes find mine. His voice is strained and full of regret. “I do now.”
I nod. “And do you know what you will be?”
A flare of rebellion darkens his eyes, but he stays quiet.
“A message.” I punch him in the face. Once. Twice. Three times. Until my fist, slick with his blood, slips off his jaw. Then I clench his bloody jaw in my hand. “You fuckers think you can rob businesses in my territory? The streets will run red with your blood. Your family’s blood. That will be the message.” I drop his jaw and step to his right, lifting the meat cleaver to rest on my shoulder.
His head lolls on his neck, strings of bloody spit dripping from his mouth. He’s blinking, trying to focus on me but he’s fading.
I smack him in the face. “Hey, dead man, don’t pass out on me yet. I have one more question for you.” I wait until his glassy eyesmanage to meet mine. “Do you know who that woman was in the diner? The one you held at gunpoint?”
A noise makes its way up his throat. He must see something in my eyes, because he suddenly stills, and his pupils blow black with fear.
I nod as I step forward and press my palm into his right one, pinning it against the wall. I see her wide green eyes and pale face staring at his gun. “That’s right, fucker. She’s mine.” I lift the meat cleaver and slam it into his wrist in front of the leather binding, work it back and forth while his screams echo against the cement walls.
