Page 166 of Damián

Either he knows Oliver has never killed before, or he wants him to see if he’s capable of killing an innocent man. Either way, I’m one hundred percent sure the pinche asshole is toying with us.

“Need help working the gun?” Aurelio asks, grinning.

Oliver lifts the golden gun.

Damn it!

No matter how evil this man is, or how many innocents he has tortured and killed, Oliver cannot take his life.

It would destroy him.

Oliver aims at the man’s head, but the moment he clocks the gun, I grab his wrist, force his weapon down, and shoot the man myself.

The man falls, and I feel Oliver’s hand trembling. I squeeze his wrist, trying to ground him in a safer place, and his tremors slowly ease.

Yes, that’s it.

Keep it down, mi amor, don’t let them notice…

I look up and see that the cartel boss is glaring at me, his face twisted in rage.

He is either furious that I messed up his plans, or he’s terrified of what Rafael will do to him now… and my money is on the second one.

Especially because thanks to my interference, Rafael will never know if Oliver would have pulled the trigger to kill a “family man,” or if he would have failed and exposed himself.

“Sorry!” I lower my gun and grin. “I’ve been told I lack patience.”

“You dare speak to me without permission?” Aurelio screams, and the man on my left takes out a knife.

I holster my gun and turn around, clamping my hand around his wrist and halting his momentum instantly. With a twist, I snap his arm downward, forcing his grip to loosen as the knife slips from his fingers.

I catch the knife midair with my left hand and drive my right elbow straight into his jaw, sending him crashing unconscious to the floor.

Suddenly, two more Cuervos lunge at me from across the room.

The first one swings, aiming a fist at my face, but I duck under the punch, slipping behind him to drive the back of the stolen knife directly into his kidney.

As he doubles over, gasping for air, I grab him by the collar of his shirt and throw him directly into the path of the other Cuervo.

Like a fucking bowling ball.

The other Cuervo recovers quickly, so I wrap my hand around the back of his neck, pull him up, leverage all my weight, and slam his face hard onto the wooden conference table.

SPLAT!

His nose breaks, splashing blood all over the table. I hold his face, pressing it against the wood, and stab the knife into the table right in front of his eyes.

“Stay down,” I warn him, and the puppy obeys.

“As you can see, Damián can speak to anyone he wants, any way he wants,” Oliver says, staring Aurelio down. “Now I suggest you shut the fuck up and continue the meeting before I ask him to stab you, and anyone who takes your place, until we find a more agreeable boss for your shit-level group.”

Pfsss! Shit-level group, I laugh internally because, wow!

My man is a savage.

Aurelio mumbles something I can’t hear, but he waves his hand, and a lawyer-looking man walks over with a briefcase and opens it on the table next to us.

“After you,” the idiot tells Oliver, and we both follow.