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I will not rest until Al Rafi’s blood paints my hands. I want the warm red liquid to grow cold as I bludgeon the sheikh.
“Victor, you murdered twenty of Noor’s men today and at least three at the casino on a different occasion. That alone is grounds for execution! You are a bloody terrorist.”
“Terrorist, eh?” I growl. “What about Luxury?”
“Ah, my next stipulation,son.The sheikh has agreed to return theAmerican. Outlined in the contract includes a clause that you are never to come within a five-hundred-mile radius of Al Rafi’s territory for the rest of yournatural-born life. All is well. Sign.” Silas’s gander flickers toward the pen as if reconsidering but wondering how I’ll sign over my soul, sans pen.
It’s a potential weapon.
The bastard taught me that much.
I fancy sliding the object through his jugular like butter and allowing the blood to cascade over my hands.
One quick hard thrust intomy father’sjugular. Yes, that will do, then out and up and into Al Rafi’s throat. All in one fluid motion.
Nice.
Quick.
Efficient.
Well bloody deserved.
While the dark vision attempts to set roots in my psyche, I’m unnerved by how close my Little One is.
All this time, I begged a Greater Good to keep her safe.
Now she’s here, and I’m bloody incapable of vengeance.Bollocks.
My eyes coast over to the bathroom where Luxury, forlorn, had retreated upon arrival—without allowing me to enter and assist her.
Instead of suicide and putting Luxury’s life in further jeopardy, I rejoin the current discussion and hiss, “Why has thelaughingstockof London chosen to show his presence today?”
“Iam your father.As previously stated,youare my concern. While this girl was running off, I had already begun negotiations with Sheikh Al Rafi.Iset in motion a plan to quell the storm that you’ve brought upon yourself by deflowering Princess Noor.”
That’s it.
I’ve bloody had enough.
The process of murdering my father and Al Rafi would take all of two seconds, tops. Then there are the guards in the room. The 360 open-floor-plan suite makes me a ready target.Idon’t give a shite. But Lux.
As I revel in a plot to murder them all, Silas christens himself the voice of reason.
Who’d have thought it?
The bloke never advocated for any person, blood or stranger alike. He settles onto the seat next to me. “There’s only one way for you in this state, Victor. It leads to death.”
While ignoring the poisonous words of my father, disguised as wisdom, I glimpse the bathroom door. Luxury wouldn’t glance at me during our travel here. If Luxury weren’t present, I’d decline the peace treaty. Just act on my desire to kill. And if perchance I died, so be it.
I’d welcome the afterlife.
“You bloody damn well know I didn’t fuck that cunt. All of you!” I let despair wash over me. The sort I ran from ages ago and hadn’t allowed to torment my mind after the death of my wife and child. With tears in my eyes, I gesture to the pen. Satisfied that he’s broken me, my father cautiously extends a hand. With each beat that passes, he grows more confident in my failure and allows me to remove the pen from his hand.
And that was the greatest mistake of his life.
I slide the pen with nimble fingers until it’s fisted in my palm. As if it were a knife, I jam the golden pen into my father’s neck. I settle back into my seat while semi-automatics point in my face. One particularly confident bloke taps the tip of my nose with the sightof his AK-47. Though tension hemorrhages through the expansive room, the only sound is my father coughing and correcting the passage of blood. As Silas stuffs his palm over the abrasion at his neck, I smile at Al Rafi.
“Don’t mind me. That’s how my father and I come to an agreement. In certain societies, people shake hands or sign treaties.” I gesture to the gilded pen, wetting the paper in my father’s life source. “My father and I are a bit aggressive. The puncture was two inches shy of his jugular, so he’ll be just fine. He actually deserves that. True story. He touched my woman a while back. Nothing like you’ve done, Al Rafi. Ha-ha. Just a minor infraction.”
