Bruce shakes his head again.
“Fine, I’ll do it,” I say, turning my attention to the group of women. I show them the picture of Evie. “Bruce here drugged and sexually assaulted this girl after she won pageant shows. That’s why I’m here.”
“No, he wouldn’t do that. You have the wrong person,” his wife says, her voice calm.
“You have too much faith in your sick fuck of a husband,” I tell her while aiming the barrel of my gun at her head.
I pull the trigger. She falls backwards and blood splatters all over her daughters. Their screams are high-pitched and honestly? Fucking annoying.
“See what you did, Bruce? That could have been avoided had you not been a sick fuck who takes advantage of young girls.” I sigh.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry!” he cries out. “Just let them go.”
Holding up two fingers, I indicate for my men to collect the girls. “Take them upstairs, do whatever you want with them, but make sure they’re not breathing afterwards,” I instruct.
With a nod, my guys drag the girls kicking and screaming up the stairs. Bruce seems to find his balls, because he stands in an attempt to grabfor his daughters. To save them. It’s no use. There’s no saving anyone.
“You fucked with the wrong woman,” I say as I send a bullet into his kneecap.
“I said I was sorry!” he screams at me.
“You see, I don’t need your apologies. I’m just here to send you to hell. There’s a special place there for fuckers like you.” I pull the trigger. Another bullet lodges in his shoulder. I’m drawing this out, because, well, it’s fun.
“Please, let them go. They don’t have anything to do with this!” he cries out again.
“The thing is… I didn’t get to where I am today by leaving witnesses. Their deaths are on your head,” I tell him. “Not mine.”
After hearing two consecutive shots from above, Bruce shrieks in agony.
“Huh, who would have thought my men would have better morals than you do? They let your daughters off easy,” I hum before putting a final bullet between his eyes.
As I walk out of the house, I instruct one of my soldiers to burn it.
I slide into my car and skim my phone. Paz went back home today. One of us needs to be there. He hasn’t checked in yet, which is odd for him. He always checks in when he lands.
I send him a message.
Me:
You land okay?
Pocketing my phone, I tell my driver to take me to the Royal. I don’t care what Evie is doing right now. I need to see her.
Chapter Thirty-Five
I’ve been on the phone for half an hour with a representative from the insurance company. I feel as if I’m going around and around in circles. “Ma’am, first you have to submit a copy of the police report, then your claim can be processed,” he says.
“Thank you. I guess I’ll contact the police for that report then.” I hang up without saying goodbye.
“What’s wrong?” Charlotte asks.
“They won’t do anything without a police report.” I sigh.
“Okay, so let’s get the report. The fire was an accident. They can’tnotpay you out,” she says.
I shake my head and whisper, “It wasn’t an accident.”
“What do you mean? Did you do it?” she whispers back.
