"Blue balloon…is…very…tired, but it got you…awesome footage."
They were my last words before I lost consciousness.
45 seven
Having Celine Valmont by my side was certainly advantageous.
As soon as security attempted to halt us at the entrance, I gritted, "Don't even think about approaching Mrs. Valmont."
Her last name had a powerful effect, allowing us to navigate through the club effortlessly. The woman followed closely, now more intrigued than scared.
Viper had been on the line monitoring the audio, but his reports had become worrying when we were twenty minutes away from the destination. By the time I'd pulled into the alley, my body was one massive ball of rage.
Once we passed the security, Viper led me to the correct room, and without a second thought, I kicked the door open.
The air inside was dense and hot and stank of sweat and something else—blood. The only light came from a pair of dim sconces, turned all the way to hellfire red.
Kimmy's body was limp, sprawled across the chair, legs scarlet, face smashed against the armrest. Her wig was gone and she'd been cuffed.
Caius Valmont was mid-action, dick out and his pants around his knees. He was focused on Kimmy's face, the way an addict focuses on the next hit. His mouth was open, sweat already dripping off his hairline.
Every muscle in me stiffened to the point of spasm, fingers curling into fists. I wanted to kill him right there and then. Wanted to cut off his dick and burn his fucking balls.
Celine went rigid, stopped dead just inside the door. She gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth.
That was enough for Valmont to snap out of his predatory frenzy. He whipped his head toward the door. Even in this light, I could see that all blood drained from his face. His features shifted into shock. He fumbled with his wilted dick, yanking his pants up to hide it.
"What the hell is going on, Caius?" Celine demanded, surveying the room. Her gaze paused on Kimmy.
"Why are you here?" Valmont asked. He sounded like a scared little kid. "And who is this douchebag?" He gestured at me.
"Are you serious?" Celine asked. "Is this how you spend your free time?"
"Celine? What are?—"
"I can't believe I'm seeing this." She was vibrating, every muscle at max tension. "You're an animal," she said. Her voice had lost all the public polish, every bit of it ground down to the bone.
"This is consensual," Valmont said, finally sounding more like himself.
"Is it?"
I didn't have time to watch their squabble. The security was already piling up in the hallway behind us.
I strode across the room in the direction of the chair. Kimmy wasn't moving. I dropped into a crouch and checked her pulse. It was weak and erratic, but it was there.
"You're sick," Celine was shouting at Valmont. "You're fucking sick!"
"Sir—are you alright?" The guard who showed up in the doorway directed the question at Valmont.
I saw it with the corner of my eyes, but I wasn't paying attention. I knew I needed to. But all I could think of was getting Kimmy out of here. I was searching for the key to remove the handcuffs. Luckily, it was on the ottoman.
I snapped the cuffs off, eased Kimmy's wrists free, and lifted her out of the chair. She weighed almost nothing. There was a moment when her head lolled onto my shoulder and her mouth brushed my collar, leaving a wet, red smear. The trickle of blood in the corner of her mouth only pissed me off more.
All Father's teachings about keeping my emotions in check evaporated.
The arriving guards quickly positioned themselves in front of the door.
"Nobody leaves," one of them announced, attempting to sound authoritative.
