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“Does. It. Hurt?” I whisper, my head hanging between my shoulders. “Answer me!”

I don’t relent, my rage turning me blind as I beat the lifeless man until hands grab my shoulders to pull me off.

“He’s dead.” Roman’s voice rings, it barely registers as I notice the distance between me and Anthony increasing.

I’m panting, my chest heaving as blood drips from my hair, landing on my chest.

“He hurt Elara.” I moan painfully. “He hurt my-my baby.” He tried to take my woman from me; he hid her from me.

He doesn’t get to die a merciful death. I need—

“And you killed him.” Roman forces my gaze away from the man until my eyes clash with his icy blue ones. “He’s dead—”

“Stop.” We hear a highly accented voice as a huge man enters the basement.

A helmet is settled in the crook of his arm, a figure almost taller and broader than Roman stands before us. His presence swallowing the space around him.

Anthony’s heart in my hand is about to fall and turn into nothing when he lifts his hand.

“Don’t.”

I lift a brow at him, uncertain of his motive as Roman takes his gun out and points it at him.

“Give me the bastard’s heart.” It would seem like he’s asking but his voice is too firm to be considered as a pleading.

“Okay…weird.” Alec mumbles.

“Weird is…” he pauses as if to find the right words. “Stealing my kill.” He completes. I can hear traces of Italian and loads of broken English as he forms sentences in his head.

“Your kill?” Roman asks.

He nods. “I’ve been looking for him for eh… for some time now.” This motherfucker is slow as fuck.

“Eh…Sorry. I’m going to hold a funeral with this heart in the casket and one for your poor English.” Roman adds with mock sympathy.

“I need the heart. Either you give it.” Another pause. “Or I take it.” He takes a step forward. “And once I’m done with you. You won’t be alive to joke.”

He tilts his head to right, his brown hair falling over his dark menacing eyes with a mocking smile etched across his face.

“So, you’re slow and blind?” Alec adds. “There’s three of us and this guy,” he points his finger at me, “just ripped Anthony’s chest apart with bare fucking hands.”

“Good. Good.” The Italian nods. “Just give it. It’s…uh a gift for my wife.” He pauses to ponder. “I’ll give you fifty- million dollars.”

“For a heart?”

“For my wife’s happiness, yes.” He says simply.

“So, you’re both insane?” Roman’s brow scrunches up in confusion. “Why would she—”

“Call my wife insane and she’ll be getting two hearts as decorations.” He grabs Roman’s collar, almost sizing him up.

Roman is about to lift his hand to punch the motherfucker but I extend my hand forward.

“Here, take it.”

“I’ll transfer the money in your bank account.” He gingerly takes a man’s heart and hides it in the dip of his helmet before nodding.

“Maybe transfer a bit towards English lessons while you’re at it.” Roman snorts.