I backhanded him over the mouth, and he grunted, blood splattering across the cement floor. “You’ll call me boss or sir.”
He gasped, rivulets of red liquid landing on his chin. His shoulders trembled. “Yes, sir.”
“Now let’s try again. Who told you about my supply of blood?” I grabbed the chair and turned it around so the back was facing him, then sat down, pressing my chest to it, arms crossed over the top. “We can drag this out and make it hurt. Cut off one finger after another, then work on your toes and your cock and balls. One piece of you every day until you’re nothing. Although....” I smirked. “You’ve always been nothing, haven’t you? Not a son, not a father, not even an advisor. Your failures outshine your accomplishments.”
Anger burned in his gaze. “You’ll lose everything. Trust me. It’ll happen.”
“Maybe.” I twirled the knife around in my hand, then pointed the blade at him. “But you won’t be the reason. I only have one brother and he died. You are not a Killough and you never will be. No one will remember your name, not even your own son. Do you know why? Because Lor is under my tutelage now.”
Lorcan struggled against his bonds, rage turning his cheeks mottled red. “He’smyson.”
Itsked. “You should’ve thought about that before you pushed him aside. He’s a smart young man. He will help the Company, more than you ever did.”
“Fuck you, Killough,” Lorcan yelled, and I had to move out of the way of his spit.
I rose again and walked around to the back of his chair. Despite his fighting, it was easy to grasp his finger and cut off the tip of his pointer in one clean slice. His yelling warped into screams.
“Please. Fuck, please. I’ll be loyal. I will be.”
I snorted as I eyed the blood that gushed from his finger, and a simple wave to Cillian gave him the signal to cauterize the wound. He moved with ease and professionalism, grabbing a blow torch to heat up a knife. When he moved to take my position, I shifted back around to the front of Lorcan.
“This won’t be over quickly.” I crouched so he could look me in the eye and basked in his cries as Cillian pressed the heated blade to Lorcan’s finger. “I’m going to drag your death out. Make your suffering long and tedious. By the time you take your last breath, you’ll be ready to meet your maker. So very ready.” I grabbed his hair and yanked back his head. He yelled again as I swooped closer to him, my face in his, and my teeth bared in a snarl. “My pet is off-limits. Come for me all you want, butnevertouch Conall.” My grip tightened, and he whimpered. Images of Conall with a gun pointed at his head flashed through my mind, fuel to a raging fire that already blazed inside me. “By the timeI’m done with you, people will know what happens to anyone who touches the love of my life.”
17
SLOAN
“Careful,” I growled out, throwing a glare toward Ronan.
He flinched away from me.
Conall sent me a pointed look and rolled his eyes. “I’m not useless, you know? I don’t need you treating me like I’m weak.”
Six days after the helicopter ride and hospital, he was finally coming home, and I’d made sure everything was prepared for him. I had a personal chef on standby, so he never had to worry about nutritious meals to support his healing. I hired Rory to stay for the next few days, much to Conall’s dismay. It didn’t matter how much he argued, I had permanent plans. Hiseventwasn’t going to happen again.
Rory couldn’t live here because he still worked at the EK Memorial on occasion, but he’d recommended a doctor who could reside with us and who was excellent at his job. I’d hired him. I always wanted someone around to make sure this kind of thing never happened again. The new doctor started tomorrow. While Rory would still serve as our doctor in the city, it was good to have someone with experience in the Hamptons.
Conall heaved a sigh from where he sat in the wheelchair Ronan had pushed through the front door. “I can walk.”
“Yes, you can, but you’re still weak. You’re recovering, Pet.”
“Mm-hmm.” He gestured to the split staircase in front of us with an unimpressed stare. “And how are we going to handle that with a wheelchair? Can I get up, please?”
I squeezed the bridge of my nose and sighed. I’d thought of everythingexcept this, apparently. It was easy to fall prey to the desire to make things easier for Conall, but we didn’t have an elevator in the house. Maybe that was something I should look into, to make it more accessible for everyone.
“Thank you.” He didn’t wait for an answer as he shoved to his feet and stomped up the stairs. I was right at his side, and as annoyed as he was at me, he gave me a soft look of appreciation, especially when he wobbled halfway up, only for me to steady him. “I know you’re worried, but I’m fine. Seriously.”
“So fine that you can walk the steps without needing a break,” I muttered.
He chuckled and glanced at the bottom of the stairs, where Ronan waited, clutching the handles of the wheelchair. Behind him was Mr. Hopper, his face drawn in concern, which didn’t happen often. I think he’d come to like Conall. Who could blame him?
Conall looked terrible even though Goodheart said it was finally okay for him to go home. His skin was clammy and pale, and he moved with a stiffness, wincing in pain with every step he took. His hallucinations had stopped, which was a positive, but it would take a while before he fully recovered. He needed time to heal. Despite not feeling the best, he still insisted on wearing his ear piercings—including the new spiked cuff—doing his hair, and wearing the best pair of jeans and T-shirt he had.
“Come on, Pet. Let’s do this together.”
We took our time to get up the rest of the steps before Ronan raced behind us with the wheelchair. Conall protested some more, but he sat in the wheelchair anyway, his shoulders slumping in relief.
Ronan wheeled him to our room, and I stayed at Conall’s side until I had him situated in bed with a thin blanket spread over him. He was still experiencing fevers occasionally, making him hot and cold at random times, but we had meds for everything now. I’d make sure he was healthy in no time.
