Sir-Pounce-A-Lot pokes a head through the cat flap on the back door, softening the rage for a second. She wouldn’t leave the cat.
Magnus.
My head pounds with all kinds of scenarios as I try her phone again. But one stands out. Was Magnus here? Has he taken her?
A raw growl builds in my throat as fury knots with fear. I feed the cat, shove my feet into myboots, snatch up my jacket, and storm out the door with nothing but rage boiling in my gut. I need answers. And I know exactly where to start.
The air outside is harsh,spitting drizzle against my skin, the grey clouds matching my thunderous mood. People move around me, hands laden with shopping bags, but my focus narrows to the man leaning casually against the stone wall of the cathedral.
Magnus sniggers like the bastard he is.
I charge towards him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, slamming him back against the wall. “Where is she?” I snarl, my voice deep and raw.
Magnus’s smile widens, taunting me. “Has she left you, D’Angelo? You poor thing.” He tuts, mock sympathy dripping from his tone. “How’s it feel, sleeping with my wife?”
I tighten my grip, rage choking my vision. “Tell me where she is, or I’ll break you in half.”
Onlookers pause, eyes widening, some lifting their phones. A siren wails somewhere in the distance, growing louder.
He laughs, loud and guttural, his manky teeth bared in full display, breath rank with stale smoke. “You’re the tracker, remember?” His laugh turns to a snarl. “At least that’s what I was paying you for.”
I shove him harder until the back of his skull clips the stone. "Wrong answer."
But he only sneers, fearless or reckless. I’m not sure which. Maybe both. "I wasn’t paying you to fuck her.” He spits. “I always found her like a sack of potatoes, if I’m honest. That and a squealing pig. But whatever turns you on.”
My vision whites out. Pure, blinding rage surges through my veins like fire. I see nothing but red. My fist coils,knuckles whitening, and before I can stop myself, I drive it into his gut, hard enough to fold him in half.
He chokes, a guttural sound ripping from his throat as he doubles over, spitting on the pavement.
I grab his collar and slam him against the wall again. My fist connects with his face—once, twice—bone against stone. Blood spatters the grey wall. He wheezes for air, sputtering. My own breath coming in ragged bursts. I don’t stop. Can’t stop.
Magnus bares his teeth in a red grin, blood smeared across them like paint, and clicks his tongue once, mockingly.
“Watch your fucking mouth,” I growl, my voice razor sharp. “Talk about her like that again and I’ll scatter your teeth across this fucking street, along with your intestines.”
But the stupid, arrogant bastard laughs through the pain, wheezing, his lip curling.
“Look at you,” he rasps, eyes glittering with sick delight. “You have a thing for pork?”
I tighten my grip, my knuckles pressing into his throat. Just a little more pressure. Just a little more, and I could finish this right here.
But the wail of sirens creeps closer, slicing through the haze of fury.
Not here. Not now. If the cops find me next to a dead man, no amount of flashing my ID will get me out of a cell. Not until they’ve cut through the red tape and democratic bullshit.
I release him with a shove, his head cracking back against the stone one last time for good measure. He sags against the wall, coughing, a string of saliva hanging from his lip as he wipes it with the back of his hand.
“You’re weak, D’Angelo.” Magnus spits, dragging in a breath. “That’s why she left you,” Magnus sneers, like he’s enjoying this far too much. “I told you she likes to play games.”
I slam him harder against the wall, my teeth clenched so tight my jaw aches. “Where. Is. She.”
He shrugs, a glint of malice in his eyes. “Maybe she ran home to her brother. You know what they say. Blood’s thicker than water.”
The sirens are close now. I can’t risk drawing more attention, not when I need to find her and my son.
With a guttural snarl, I release him and shove him away. He stumbles, then straightens his jacket with infuriating calm.
“See you around, D’Angelo.” He tosses the words over his shoulder like a threat. “Assuming you find her before I do.”
