Page 23 of The Villain

He licked his lips, fucking grin still stuck in place, and his eyes blazed. “No, I’myourwhore.”

I shoved him away before he could feel the shiver that ran down my spine at his words and went to the closet. I tossed some sheets aside and found what I was looking for—an old dog bed.It had been used once or twice back when I’d dog sat for Rhys, before his dog had passed away. It was a big bed, made for a husky, and the moment I left the closet holding it, Devlin’s eyes narrowed. He suddenly barked out a laugh, and the irony wasn’t lost on me.

“Oh, fuck off.”

I set the dog bed on the floor beside mine, then retrieved the chain still attached to Devlin’s cuffs. I gave it a tug, then walked toward the bedroom as he half-crawled, half-rolled behind me, grumbling the entire time. The bathroom was only a few feet away from the bed, so I looped the chain around the toilet and secured it to the base. There was a chance that Devlin could pull the toilet out of the ground, sure, but not without a fuck-ton of noise and a flood.

I checked the chain’s slack. Devlin could now shower, use the toilet—which meant no more fucking buckets—and lay down on the dog bed, but that was the extent of his freedom. He couldn’t reach my bed or kitchen, and I’d already filled a laundry basket with anything he could use to hurt me or himself. Razor blades. Pills. Whatever I could find. And I locked the basket in my closet. He couldn’t reach the gun in my nightstand, but I grabbed it anyway and shoved it into my pocket to give to Rhys.

Satisfied that I could leave Devlin alone for at least ten minutes, I pointed at him on the dog bed. He looked absolutely irate. “I need to go deal with the mess your attack caused?—”

“Attack is a bit of an overstatement?—”

“—and I swear to God if you doanythingwhile I’m gone, I will shove an entire baseball bat up your ass. Don’t think I won’t.”

His eyes glittered. “I believe you.”

With an irritated huff, I left my apartment and slammed the door behind me. I dug the heels of my palms into my eyes asI leaned against the door, listening for any noise, but the chain only rattled softly for a moment before falling quiet.

Downstairs, I found that most of the crew had already dispersed. Some lingered, playing video games, drinking, or shooting pool, and it didn’t escape my notice that most of them were younger members. The ones most loyal to me. I received several nods of respect as I entered the room. Rhys was sitting at the bar with Mads, while Hack lazily threw a few darts. Jace lounged on a couch nearby, thankfully dressed now. All four of them looked at me with what felt like sympathy. Then I heard footsteps stomping toward me, and I understood why. I turned to find a bloody Rank and two of his buddies.

I normally wouldn’t entertain a conversation with him, but I wanted to ferret out the source of the fire. My number one suspect was Rank, or someone close to him, so I let him speak first.

“Look what he did to me!” He pointed to his ear, wrapped in a messy, blood-crusted bandage. His face was still smeared with blood.

I reached behind the bar, looking for a pack of cigarettes, and exhaled in relief when my fingers closed around one. Rhys handed me a lighter, and I lit one up, letting myself get a good lungful before answering.

“You brought that on yourself.”

His face went beet red, the flush climbing all the way up to his balding scalp and the gray combover he used to hide it. “He doesn’t even have a mark on him. I don’t know what the fuck you’ve been doing with the devil, but your father would?—”

“He gave me the Bonnams’ route earlier. In detail.” I blew a puff of smoke in his face. “I know what I’m doing.”

I didn’t know shit, but he didn’t need to know that.

Rank just stood there, blinking, and a murmur spread through the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rhys duck his head to hide a grin.

The old man finally recovered. He clearly didn’t want to be appeased—he wanted me deader than my father. “How do you know he’s telling the truth unless he’s screaming?”

I raised an eyebrow. “How do you know I didn’t make him scream?”

Rank looked taken aback, but he was too puffed up to back down now. He pointed a gnarled finger at my chest. “It’s not right what you’re doing, boy. We have just as much right to him as you do.”

He’d already crossed a line threatening Devlin, but calling me ‘boy’was the cherry on top of his demise sundae. I reached out and grabbed the back of Rank’s head, then slammed his face down into the bar. His friends immediately surged forward, but Rhys was there in a second, holding them back with one outstretched hand like a wizard. Rank struggled in my grip, letting out a muffled cry as he turned and smeared the blood from his nose across the surface.

I leaned over him and gritted my teeth. “That’s the last time you will ever call meboy, old man. I’m the leader of the O'Shea crew, not you. And let’s be clear. Even if I weren’t around? You still wouldn’t crack the top ten on the list of people capable of taking my place. I earned this spot through blood and sweat and tears. I earned this spot at the end of my father’s belt, and I have the scars to prove it. So no, Rank, you aren’t entitled to a piece of fucking anything. You’re entitled to lick my boots and say thank you.”

I tore him away from the bar and slammed him to the floor. His wounded cry cut off as I pressed the bottom of my boot over his mouth. He kicked and squirmed and scrabbled at my leg, but I was much stronger than him. “No more words, Rank. I need anod from you, and that’s fucking it.” His watery eyes went wide as blood dripped from his nose and down his cheeks. I pressed harder, until he finally managed to jerk his head.

I made sure to dig in a little more before I lifted my boot. “Get the fuck out. Stay off this property and out of O'Shea’s for five days. If I see you back before then, I’ll put you in the ground with my father.”

Rank rolled onto all fours and stumbled to his feet. Then he slunk out the front door, his two friends on his heels. I gestured to Hack. “Make sure they leave the property.”

“Sure, Cian.” Hack was younger than me—closer to Jace’s age. A computer nerd who thrived on creating online chaos. He followed orders well. Unlike Mads, who in his late twenties still got distracted, forgot things, or fucked them up. But he was loyal. He tried. And he was fun to be around.

I’d finished my cigarette by the time Hack returned.

“They’re gone.”