Page 113 of Coveted By Cupid

His head bobs rapidly. “Yes! He wanted us to teach her a lesson for leaving him. Boden thought if we had our way with her, the experience would make her feel tainted. He wanted to play the white knight, taking her back while she assumed she’s used goods and could do no better.”

Rarely does anything surprise me, but my mouth is hanging open. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“No, I’m being truthful,” Mikhail says in a panicked tone, misunderstanding my question as me not believing him.

“That is so fucked up,” Oaks says, his tone bewildered.

“Shiiit,” Ruger drawls, shaking his head in disbelief. “Let me tell you. I’ve been pissed at many of my exes, but not enough to sell them to a flesh trade.”

“Right? It’s…it’s…” Scalpel can’t seem to find the words to express how awful it is, none of us can.

“Diabolical,” Crypt says with his face twisted in disgust, filling in the word that eludes us. If Crypt’s face is showing any emotion, you know shit is extreme.

“And you went along with this knowing his ex was my ole lady?”

“We didn’t know she was yours until today, when she came to campus wearing your property patch—none of us knew,” Mikhail says.

“What do you mean you didn’t know she was mine? Boden knew she was mine before the night you attacked her outside her apartment.”

Both Russians still, their chains clinking together as they sway from the beam. The two men look at each other with a mixture of shock and anger. They exchange heated words in Russian, clearly pissed with this revelation.

“He didn’t tell you?” I huff a laugh. “You got played by a fuckboy.”

Neither speaks, too baffled and infuriated.

With more questions brewing in my mind, I press for answers. “Why not take off after you realized I claimed her?”

“Leverage,” Mikhail explains tersely. “If we had her, we could barter for Artem’s safe return.”

I raise an eyebrow at our captive. “Safe return? Wait. Do you think Artem’s still alive? Ha! Your brother is dead.”

Mikhail goes white. “Dead?”

I nod, motioning around the space. “Bled out in this very room the same night you fled and left him behind with me.”

Guilt morphs Mikhail’s features into one of pain. “He bled out?”

“That usually happens when you castrate someone with no medical intervention,” Crypt says nonchalantly.

Overwhelmed by learning the fate of his brother, Mikhail vomits violently, covering the front of himself in bile.

Oaks wrinkles his nose. “Gah! I hate it when they vomit. It’s another layer of stench to deal with.”

“It’s okay if you step out into the hall, brother,” I say, not looking away from our captives as I warn my VP.

“Nah,” he says. “I’ll stay with you, Prez, all the way—even when it’s gross as hell.”

Scalpel hands Oaks a bucket. “Just in case. We don’t want to clean up any more mess than we need to.”

Oaks frowns, pushing the bucket back at our medic. “Fuck that. Give me one of those anti-nausea patches. I know you’ve got a damn pharmacy in your bag.”

While everyone focuses on Oaks and Scalpel discussing the best medications for stomach upset, I drop the pipe on the table of torture instruments, looking for a new toy to test out. My eyes land on a tall, pointed iron stake. It’s old and rusted in many places, but it looks oddly familiar.

My eyes lift to Crypt’s across the table. “Did you raid the historical cemetery again? This looks like a stake from the dilapidated fence.”

Crypt shrugs, not making eye contact and looking guilty. “Maybe.”

Normally, I would lecture him about taking shit from the cemetery. The last time he did, he ripped off one of the bronze-plated vase holders from an old headstone and brought it back to the club to drink his beer out of it like a chalice. Freaked a few of the brothers out, and I had to tell him to leave it in his room. After being thoroughly chastised, I thought he had learned not to rob the cemetery again, but I guess not. And for once, I’m not upset.