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The Stormhold brothers were something, alright.

After he was finished, Arkane bent close to whisper something that I wouldn’t have caught if I hadn’t read his lips. “There, you won’t get to touch another girl again, even if you wanted to,” he said in such a lethal tone that the terror in Heath Glen’s eyes only heightened.

My eyes widened when the realization hit me. He cut his fingers because he touched me? I’ve never had anyone fight my battles before. At that moment, I didn’t know why, but the act softened my heart.

Right as Arkane lifted from the floor to deal with Kenny, Heath Glen’s eyes found me, and recognition crossed his eyes immediately. Even in pain, a dirty smirk curled his cracked lips as he realized I was Lylah’s daughter.

“Sweet Belle,” he mouthed the sick nickname he used for me once through what was left of his lips. A nauseating gleam covered his eyes as he eyed me. My hands itched to kill him, but Arkane promised his life was mine to take only after he was done with him. And he clearly wasn’t.

My eyes went back to Arkane just as a calm smile rose on his lips as he regarded Kenny. “I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life, Kenny.”

“You wo…won’t,” he stammered, life flashing in his eyes. “You can’t kill yo…your own fucking uncle.”

“Try me.” Arkane grinned.

“You can’t.” Kenny’s eyes bulged. He tried to move, but he couldn’t. “Only I know who the real White Hand is. You can’t kill me.”

Arkane shook his head. “For years, your only thought has been to destroy my family, Kenny Stormhold. You haven’t deserved that name in a long time. You’re nothing but a disgrace. I gave you a chance to redeem yourself, but you failed. Alessio Mancini’s life wasn’t yours to take, and for that, today you will die,” he declared.

“It wasn’t me,” he wailed, shaking. “I had nothing to do with Alessio. It was the White Hand!”

But Arkane paid him no heed, as he took hold of a large serrated knife from Mikhail and ever so slowly started to sever Kenny’s Stormhold’s head like he had all the time in the world. And he made sure Kenny felt every inch of his head being yanked away. At one point, half his head was still attached while the other half was splayed open, and he was still alive, eyes gaping with unimaginable pain as blood sprayed everywhere; in the next moments, he lost his life.

Arkane didn’t stop till Kenny’s head rolled down the floor. A moment of silence before a sudden hiss swept through the air, and before anyone could even understand what it was, something flew into the room from the open door.

Everyone stilled as we recognized what it was.

Grenade.

Only it continued to rain down all over the room.

“Everyone down,” Arkane shouted. I didn’t know how he made it across the room to me that fast, but he was all over me before the grenades went off. We smashed into a couch, which landed right on top of us. Arkane covered every inch of me, holding me tight as something loud and thunderous shook the room. It hurt, and my ears were ringing, but soon, darkness smothered me entirely.

I didn’t know how long I was out, but when I came to, all I felt was a heavy weight on me.

“Arkane,” I coughed, trying to move his body away from mine. But it was too heavy—everything felt too heavy. Somehow, I managed to squirm my head and torso from under his weight.

“Arkane,” I whispered once again, but he showed no movement. I pressed a shaky finger to his neck, and thankfully, he had a strong pulse.

My eyes burned as I stretched my neck, trying to assess the damage when, through the blur, I could make out the Surman leader delivering heavy kicks to an unresponsive body. Squinting my eyes, I made it out to be Mikhail, who was out cold on the floor.

“We don’t have time, Jock,” Heath Glen bit out, his voice more broken without his lips as he held his mutilated hands to his chest. “We must go now.” His agitated eyes swept over the room. “He has called for us. We’ll take care of these bastards later.”

He? Who was he? The White Hand?

The Suman leader nodded, but not before kicking and spitting at Mikhail one last time, and led a limping Heath Glen out. It was only then that I noticed a team of Surmans out the door, waving for them to hurry up.

No. I can’t let him escape. I tried to lift myself, only to fall back again, and a cough slipped through as smoke dried my throat. The sound had the two snap their attention toward me.

Heath Glen paused as he took me in. Even battered and bruised, the nauseating smile was back on his lips. “Don’t try too hard, darling.” He snickered.

Jock, the Surman leader, cocked his gun toward me. “I say we kill her now,” he growled.

“No,” Heath Glen ordered. “I want my time with her.” His eyes held me in place for a second. The look in them was the same as that night. The one that held some kind of sickness to ruin me. It was a look I would never forget.

“What about the rest of them?” Jock grunted.

Heath Glen shook his head. “Not now; he has asked us to return.” And with that, Heath Glen snapped his leering gaze to me. “I won’t kill you now, but we’ll meet soon, sweet Belle.” There was a certain amusement to his tone as he licked his lips. “We’re going to have so much fun this time,” he promised. Jock held almost half his weight as they disappeared into the smoke and dust.