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“You’re safe now,” was all I could say to her, wanting her to know those words were true despite the bomb that was about to go off.
There was no stopping it.
Zane cursed, lashing his arms across the kitchenette and sweeping the mugs and plates off, the ceramic dishes smashing and clattering to the floor as Kieran grabbed the nearest thing and hurled it.
Unlucky for the rest of us if we were trying to be inconspicuous when that chair went sailing through the window.
“He’s fucking dead, I’m going to gut him, string him up like the fucking dog he is!” Kieran spat.
“Stop, please,” Vee whimpered pitifully as Thomas remained frozen on the bed, awaiting the rage to fall on him.
“Stop, you’re scaring her,” I snapped, and it was like I’d shot the pair of them.
They turned to us, Kieran’s face a storm of emotions, while Zane’s was masked, although the hurt in his eyes was clear as day to me.
“Vee…” Kieran murmured as he crossed the room.
Vee buried her head in my chest, her shoulders shaking as she wept softly.
Zane remained as still as a statue, just staring at us with a broken gaze.
“I’m not mad at you, princess, fuck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t…” Kieran paused by us, his dark eyes meeting mine with panic and confusion.
“We need to leave, it’s not safe enough here. There’s a safe house. Thomas, you’re coming. We said we’d help you for helping Vee,” Zane stated, his voice emotionless once more.
I gritted my teeth as I flicked my gaze to him, at the way his eyes were now devoid of all emotion.
He’d shut back off, asshole.
Then again, it was better than scaring ourtopolina. She’d been through enough.
But from the looks on my brothers’ faces, and the rage I was holding at bay, there was only one outcome for the man who’d done this.
And it was going to be bloody and painful.
Everyone involved would pay, if it was the last thing I did.
20
KIERAN
I’d fought every urge to take out my blind rage on Thomas, not wanting to hurt Vee any further. She’d asked me to spare him, and I had, but the fury was insane.
The thought of some filthy lowlife forcing himself on her… red was all I saw. I wanted to gut him, to pull his insides out and watch as they writhed while he struggled for breath.
Hell, maybe I’d see if I could recreate that whole ‘Blood Eagle’ viking torture. That sounded like the perfect thing for a man who had defiled the woman who lit my soul on fire.
Vincent fucking Moretti was a walking corpse. He was living on borrowed time.
I’d light his fucking dick on fire and feed it to him. He’d wish he’d never even been born.
I couldn’t control myself, and as soon as Zane broke, it was like I’d been given the green light. All my rage needed to come out, so I’d hurled the nearest thing to me, needing to destroy something in this moment, to channel my rage so it didn’t burn me up from the inside.
The smashing glass of the window, the shards raining down, it was like I was opening myself up and airing out the rage within me, spotlighting it to the world.
Until I heard her whimper, and then Enzo had scolded us both.
We were scaring her.
