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“I do not.”
“But you do,” he replies.
I run my hand through my hair. “Did I give you permission to talk back to me this way?” I ask, raising my voice.
“Sorry, boss,” he says, then steps out of the room.
The door reopens and Carter steps in. “You do love her. You wouldn’t hesitate to kill her otherwise.”
“I don’t know what I feel, but not killing her is not an option right now,” I say honestly. It’s the truth and that fact confuses me, I’ve never been in love, and I’m unsure if what I’m feeling for her is that. My emotions are all over the place, but one thing I do know without hesitation, is I don’t want her to die. Yet. And that speaks volumes about who I am.
Not many things in this life give me fear, not many things in this life I need.
My fear and my need for her are all very new. And working all that out is proving to be harder than anticipated.
“The uncle is asking to see her,” Carter says.
“He can go fuck himself.”
“If only that was possible.” He chuckles as he walks out.
“Boss, here she is.” Ace pushes Heather into the room. She’s wearing the towel that I wrapped around Isadora. She holds it up over her chest as her eyes gaze at the floor, waiting for me to speak.
“Where would she go?”
“She never told me much. Honestly, I don’t know.” Heather shrugs her shoulders.
“Think, Heather, think.” I reach for a shirt, sliding it on as I wait for her to speak.
“Maybe work. She was always working.”
“Why did you let her take your car?” I ask.
Heather’s eyes go wide. “I did no such thing. That whore stole it.”
I tsk-tsk at her. “Careful with your words, Heather. You are the only whore I see here right now.”
“What’s so special about her?” she asks.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“She’s special… to me. That’s all that matters.”
“Whatever,” she murmurs.
“Leave now, Heather.”
“Aren’t we going to fuck?”
“Leave. Now. Heather.”
She makes some sort of sound as she turns and walks out the door. I reach for my phone and dial Isadora’s number, it doesn’t even ring.
Ace is standing outside the door when I step through.
“Burn all his shit. Strip it down.”
He nods as I begin walking down the stairs to a loud scream that soon follows.
The uncle is seated in a chair, tied to it, and a ball gag hangs from his mouth stopping him from speaking. I pull it from his mouth and he spits on the floor and looks up at me with hate in his eyes. Believe me I detest him just as much.
“Where would she go?”
He smiles. “As if I’d tell you.”
Carter hands me an iron poker, one that was hanging on the fire tool set stand right next to the fire. I step over and place it in the flames and wait for a few minutes but continue to talk, “Did you know my mother would burn me? Just small ones, nothing overly large, just enough to leave a scar as a reminder not to anger her again?” I tell him, looking down at the iron poker. “This tool…” I move it around in my hands admiring it, “… she would press it to my skin until I screamed, and when she lifted it off I could smell my own skin burning. That’s not something a child should have to deal with, the fear of a mother who physically hurts you. Don’t you think?”
“You deserved it.”
I raise an eyebrow. “A ten-year-old kid deserves to be burned as punishment for walking down the stairs?” I sigh while shaking my head. Slipping on a protective glove, I pull the iron from the fire and walk over to his chair. Without hesitation I slam it onto his hands which are tied to the back of the chair. I press hard on his skin hearing the sound before I smell the distinct odor of burning flesh. He screams, it’s blood-curdling, and as I pull it away some of his skin comes with it and some is left hanging from his hand. “You still think so?”
He nods his head. “She should have killed you.” His head rears back. This man is weak, so weak, using a girl to do his dirty work.
“But you know what happened, right? I killed her.” I smile, placing the hot iron on his skin again. He screams, and Carter shoves the ball gag back in his mouth to shut him the fuck up. I burn him one more time, just for fun, before we leave.
It doesn’t take long to arrive at the club, and when we do, Benny’s there as always. He sees us and stands a little taller.
“Have you seen Issy?” Carter asks.
Benny looks to me then back to Carter. “No.”
“Do you know where she might have gone?” I ask.
