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“I said look, don’t talk.”
Marcus grabs his face again as Theo takes a step forward, bringing me with him. Jordan’s gaze darts to me, and I see the same flash of recognition
in his eyes that I saw back at the club.
He knows who I am.
His expression shifts as he realizes why he’s here. Why these men dragged him away from wherever the fuck they found him and tied him up in a basement. Because of me.
Because they know what he did to me.
His light brown eyes widen, and he starts talking in a rush behind the barrier of the gag. His eyes are bloodshot, and one cheek is swollen, making me certain that the punch I saw isn’t the only one Marcus landed on him.
Good.
My hand clenches tightly as I catch Marcus’s eye and nod, licking suddenly dry lips. His intense gaze burns into mine for a second before he reaches out and rips the tape away from Jordan’s mouth.
The bound man roars in pain, and Ryland pulls a gun from his waistband as Marcus kicks the chair again. His foot catches the seat of the chair this time, right between Jordan’s legs. It must catch his balls too, because he hunches over, his arms yanking at the binds restraining him as he groans and retches.
When he looks up, spit and blood are trailing from the corner of his mouth and he’s breathing heavily. His gaze lands on me, and his features contort slightly as he takes in my appearance.
“Jesus, Ayla. What the fuck happened to you?”
I don’t know if he’s talking about my tattoo, my amputation, or the company I keep, but it doesn’t really matter. I don’t care what he thinks about any of it.
“I survived,” I tell him, stepping forward again.
My hand is still curled into a fist, and although the scrapes and bruises from when I hit Natalie have faded to faint pink marks, I can still feel the echoes of pain creeping up my arm.
I never knew I had so much violence inside me until that day. And as I stare down at Jordan’s twisted features, I realize he’s part of what instilled that violence in me. It’s been living inside me, festering and eating away at me, ever since the first night he touched me.
His lip curls a little as he drags his gaze away from me, and when he focuses on the three men that surround me, he grunts. “Wait a minute. I know who you are.” He chuckles. “You’re three of Luca’s guys. Three of his picks to run his empire one day or whatever.”
Ryland stiffens at the mention of Luca’s name, his finger slipping onto the trigger of the gun. Theo steps forward, his eyes narrowing. “How the fuck do you know about that?”
Jordan smiles, revealing red-tinged teeth. Some of the fear seems to have bled out of him, and the cocky smirk that plays across his lips grates on my nerves.
“It’s an open secret among Luca’s close acquaintances. We keep our ears to the ground, pay attention to what he’s up to, because it affects us too.” His smile broadens. “And if you really are Luca’s guys, then you know he doesn’t take kindly to people interfering in his business. I’ve been letting him use my office as a front for years. I’m a valuable asset to him. You fuck with me and you’ll pay for it.”
“Shut up,” Marcus barks.
“You think he cares about her little vendetta?” Jordan shakes his head, jerking his chin toward me.
My skin chills. I know this tone. It’s the tone he always used when he promised me that no one would believe me if I reported him—that I’d only be ruining my life, not his, if I tried to tell anyone what he’d done to me.
I take a step forward, my fist lashing out before I can stop it. I catch Jordan just below his eye, in the same place Marcus hit him earlier, and he grunts in pain. When he slowly turns his head back to face all of us, I can see fury burning in his eyes.
I recognize that too.
“You think they can protect you, you little bitch?” he hisses. “Luca doesn’t care about them. He’s got this game set up so there’s no way he loses, no matter who wins. If they cross him, he’ll just take them out and find three more to take their places. They’re not worth shit. You’re not worth shit.”
My heart is pounding harder and harder as I stare down at him, the wild organ threatening to break through my ribs.
My voice shakes as I speak, but it has nothing to do with fear this time.
It’s pure fury.
“These men are worth a hundred of you,” I bite out. “And so am I.”
