“N-no. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I-I just found these and thought you should know.”
“So you could blackmail him,” Paddy reminds the room. “Regular little goody-two-balls aren’t ya?”
“You were the one,” I continue, the truth pounding loud and clear in my ears. “Those hands wereyours.”
I eat up the space and speak through slammed teeth. “Hai toccato ciò che è mio.”You touched what is mine.
He swallows, then tries to bolt, but Lorcan digs his fingers into McAllister’s arms, holding him to the spot.
I stop a couple of inches from his face. “Tell me, if you’re so obsessed with her, why didn’t you fuck her when you had the opportunity?”
His mouth opens and closes like the piranha he is.
“She was unconscious, right? You had a chance. With your own. Fucking.Niece.”
I allow my spit to rain down on him. My anger has crossed every internal border and is now surging through my whole body like a Cat 5 hurricane.
I grab him by the throat, yank him toward me then throw him against the wall of knives. He yelps as several clatter to the concrete floor.
Walking over to him slowly, I see nothing but red.
“You’rethe reason she’s scared.You’rethe reason she can’t trust anyone.” I close in on him and grip his cheeks, squeezing them together and bruising the bones with just one hand. “You’rethe reason I can’t touch her.”
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t?—”
I’m done. I don’t want to hear his explanations, his pleas. I just want him dead. I want to kill him—brutally. And I couldn’t have found myself in a more perfect place—a butcher’s shop.
“N-n-n-noooo,” he protests as I deeply scan the blades. He runs to the opposite side of the room but Brody catches him, holding him fast.
I lift a beauty down from a meat hook. A large, pristine machete with a long curved blade and smooth wooden handle.
“Good choice,” Paddy murmurs as he looks on, genuinely entertained.
I don’t even think about the etiquette of turning up to another clan’s headquarters and violently carving up a human beforetheir eyes. Something tells me it’s not an uncommon sight anyway.
“Come here,” I growl.
Brody releases Callum and pushes him into the center of the room.
He stands there trembling but all I see in his eyes is a young girl, barely fourteen, begging her uncle not to touch her. Watching the room spin as she digests whatever poison he put into her body just for kicks and photographs.
He’s one sick motherfucker.
I don’t hesitate. I bring the blade above my head then swing it at a right angle bringing down on his shoulder. It’s sharp as fuck, slicing off his entire arm. He stares at it in shock, while I go for his other arm which also falls to the floor.
He sways like a drunk but before he can buckle at the knees, I whack the machete into his shins. The cut isn’t quite so clean, the blade getting wedged in his sinewy muscle. I haul it back out and go for the other leg.
Blood pours from the wounds, slickening the floor. He falls forward and face plants the sodden ground and I go at his back, slashing and slashing and slashing until his pulse limps to a halt. But even then, I keep going and don’t stop until his body is in bits.
When I finally stagger backward into the door, I’m a red, bloody, sweating mess, but at least I’m calmer than I was when I realized what the photographs were.
The room falls silent but for thedrip, drip, dripof blood from jagged parts of his skeleton.
“That wasn’t bad for a rookie,” Paddy eventually says, then a few more seconds pass before he smirks.
I wipe a bloody hand across my brow as my pulse begins to settle. “You boys do this kind of thing often?”
Brody drags a giant barrel into the room and starts emptying cans of acid into it.
