One swift kick of my foot would take it out his hands, and I could strangle him with my thighs.
“Probably,” Conrad answers. “You’d like her too, she’s got a—”
His words finish with a snap of teeth as I send my knee under his chin. It took every bit of strength I had left gripping the chains, but when clatters of white drop to the ground, revealing his broken grin…
It was fucking worth it.
George sends a scalpel into my side. White-hot pain erupts in my stomach again, and he motions to pull back, until a voice stops him.
“What the hell is going on here?!” the Judge’s voice booms.
My narrowed eyes follow him as he strolls in the room, eyeing his embarrassment of creations.
He’s not concerned about me being in here; he’s joined them at times. He’s likely as pissed as he looks that one heir to his throne is missing half his teeth, whilst the other is ready to kill what the Judge needs most.
It’s the only reason I’m alive, and why everyone else thinks I’m dead.
“Sort yourself out,” the Judge grits to Conrad, who throws me a death glare, teeth in hand, and scampers out the room.
He only acts threatening to women. If I wasn’t in these restraints, he’d run for his fucking life.
George lifts his hand to remove the knife but stops when his dad barks at him to leave it, and he obeys like the little bitch he is.
The bay windows stretch across the back wall, revealing the mixture of greens and browns as the leaves sway wildly in the wind. It’s getting late, the sky turning to a deep grey as the Judge stalks in front of my view, his silhouette standing stark against his backdrop.
His sons are nothing like him, likely an effect from nepotism.
Where they’re chaotic and act like fiends, he’s a stone wall. He wants order, respect and compliance. Everyone around him gives him it willingly, though when he isn’t looking, they cower from behind him.
Conrad and George though?
Their men turn in the other direction when they see them. I’ve even seen a few outright ignore them. They don’t have the same respect as their father.
No one in this family scares me. All men fall. We just drop from our grace in different ways.
At this moment though, I feel the room is filled with two separate demonic entities, both willing to fight for dominance, only one winner.
He thinks it’s him, seeing as I’m the one shackled, but if given the chance, I’d rock his fucking world.
But he isn’t mine to claim.
The Judge steps into the light, staring up at me. “My sons tell me you haven’t given them any information, Saint. This disappoints me…You agreed as part of the exchange.”
“Mind’s a little fuzzy on that part,” I growl. He wants everything.
All the information I hold, how I obtained it, where I got the people I work with.
He’ll use it to conspire against my father, and whilst I know he’d be able to handle it, I’d never give him up, even if he thinks I’m dead.
This is a risk I knew would take me one day. The odds against me surviving and bringing down this society were slim, too many moving parts and other criminal organisations on a payroll to let me walk free at the end.
That didn’t bother me, not when I knew Indie wouldn’t come to any harm because of it. Her being separated from me all those years meant that there wasn’t a connection to her, nothing to hold over my head in case this happened.
Now it’s a different story.
He knows who my father and I are, he always did, that it was our mother that started our vengeance.
It’s always creeped in the back of my mind whether Indie’s assault was because of me. I shove it down with a fury, because if left to fester, that would fucking destroy me.
