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ROHAN
Anger’sferocious teeth bite into my skin, seeping its deadly venom into my bones. His hands are on her, touching her, teasing her, marking her.
There is no way to describe the thorny knot of emotions uncoiling my muscles as I stand on the sideline, staring at the sight before me, completely impuissant.
My teeth bite down on the inside of my cheek as I fight to contain myself from barrelling into the octagon and strangling Devereux to death with my bare-fucking-hands.
Tearing my eyes away from her flushed cheeks, I try to extract this strange tangle of hate from my system.
My arms flash towards the punch bag.
Left, right, left, right; I connect my fists to the leather.
Each hit punctuates the lesson Liam Devereux will soon learn.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
Saoirse Ryan belongs to me.
The words resound in my head, echoing as though they’re the only mantra I need to justify the murderous scenarios playing out behind my eyes.
Suddenly, the sweet sound of Saoirse’s delirious laughter filtrates through the open space, and once again, I find my eyes honed in on her.
Only this time, she’s no longer on her feet sparring with that cuntface. No, instead, she’s straddling Liam’s waist, her fingers needling into the bare flesh of his exposed shoulder blades.
I think not, love. Those hands, your delicate hands, belong to me.
My skin is the only skin you will touch. My body is the only one you’ll tease.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
My seized jaw cramps as I chomp down my bitterness. This was not how my plan was supposed to go. No, no, no…I did not mean for Saoirse to be blinded by Liam’s pathetic hero complex. I don’t care who his family is. I can’t let him fuck up my carefully crafted plot.
Sure, a Devereux and a Ryan could bring my father’s entire operation to its knees, but that’s a situation I gain nothing from, and everyone knows I do nothing for less than full fucking price. So the sooner she realises everything and everyone in her life has a cost, the better off we’ll all be.
The Killybegs empire belongs to me, and I’ll be dead before I allow some tattooed arsewipe to steal what is rightfully mine from right under my nose. Deranged, maybe slightly, but with good reason. There is more to gain than lose, and Rohan King never loses.
In conclusion, it’s time to step up my game because clearly watching her from afar is no longer an option.
Your running days are over, love. It’s time to meet the man behind the mask.
As I edge closer, I strain to hear the private conversation, although judging by the sickening body language, it’s not something I want to hear.
Finally, their vomit-inducing flirtations grace my eardrums, forcing my gag reflex to work overtime.Who knew Liam was such a little bitch? Oh, yes, I did.
Fortunately for Liam, Saoirse clears her throat and pulls herself to her feet before I can swan-dive right off the edge of my morals and land headfirst into what’s known as my sociopathic killer territory.
As much as Saoirse’s swift departure from Liam’s lap may have saved his arse, the reminder still has my stomach pitting into tight coils as anger froths in my mouth.
No more sitting around waiting, watching her from afar. Time to make myself known. I promised her I’d see her soon, and I don’t make promises I can’t keep.
