AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Holt,” he groans.
My eyes flicker to Carter and Madds, who suddenly turn their heads slightly toward the man.
“Holt is dead.” I hear Finn behind me.
“Mhm… son.”
“You’re saying his son knows where Boseman is?” I take a step back, the guy bleeding all over the fucking place.
“Maybe. At a party a few months ago, I heard him say this name to someone as I was walking behind them.” He spits another mouthful of blood on the floor. “I tried to get him to tell me about this guy, but he said he has no clue who I’m talking about. He was lying. I know he was.”
“And Holt is now going into business with O’Rourke too…”
Motherfucking O’Rourke!
These sons of bitches are playing mafia now.
Turning around, I stalk toward the door where Finn still stands, and he hands me some wet wipes to quickly clean my feet. I discard the robe in the bin sitting next to the door, annoyed that I’ll have to get rid of these trousers too when I get home.
I look at my watch, then at the heaving man. “Thank you, Mr Crowley. You’ve been helpful, but it should have never reached this point. I’m afraid I will not have the pleasure of taking your life today, as I have my dinner to prepare for. Good evening.” His eyes go wide, brightening at my words, filling with hope, even as the blood dripping out of his wrists drains him of life.
As I turn to Finn, I hand over the knife, and the bastard’s eyes fill with a menace that scares me sometimes. I can’t help but grin, because menace looks good on his pretty boy face. It turns his soft, bright blue eyes into ice.
Opening the door, I look at Crowley over my shoulder. “Finn is going to finish carving that smile. I hear you put one of our girls into hospital, then claimedthe whore deserved it.Our girls are anything but whores, Mr Crowley, and Finn sure does hate it when they’re called that.” The hope falls from his face, his mangled mouth falling open, either from surprise that the girl works for us, or shock that he’s not leaving this room alive. I nod to Carter and Madds before I close the door behind me, drowning out a scream so excruciating, it makes my muscles tingle.
“We all pay for our sins eventually…” I whisper as I walk back the way I came.
* * *
MORRIGAN
“You always were a dirty liar.I can never believe a word you tell me.” Ryan’s tone is grave as he fixes me with a disgusted stare, even as he sips his white wine.
He lets that silence linger long enough that it allows too many scenarios to run through my head, since nowadays almost everything I tell him is a lie meant to protect me. But I grab my glass of dry red and sip as I force myself to hold his gaze.
“Please, do tell me what you believe I lied about.” My snippy attitude hides my dishonesty, but as much as I practiced it, my insides tremble. Not because of the fear that he could find out about the club or the apartment, but… because of the constant threats, the constant abuse, even if he never touched me further than holding my arm too tight, or pushing me aside.
He insists on teaching me that physical violence is not always more effective than the psychological one.
Sighing, he joins his hands, and I can’t help but notice that the cold, sharp look in his eyes has now taken permanent residence there. When we got together, almost two years ago, he was a different man, or maybe I just fucking missed all the red flags. But no… he just hid them very well behind that fucking mask. I still hold hope for the man he used to be, for my sake more than his, because I’m stubborn and refuse to believe I was this fucking blind to who he really is. I’ve known this man since school… how could I have been so stupid?!
“Jesus, you think you’re such a smart fucking bitch. I think it’s time to tighten that leash.”
What the fuck?
“You’re out of line, Ryan, and we’re in a damn restaurant.” I look around the fancy space, the most expensive restaurant in the city, and I’m not sure why he brought us here if his plan was to make a scene.
But then again, nowadays he rarely misses an opportunity toput me in my placepublicly, even if it is only calling me a derogatory term or stating some sort of failure he believes I have achieved. Even the clothes I wear… they never fit me well, always showing my fat belly… my thick thighs… my big ass.
“You didn’t go home yesterday, after you left.”
“So?”
“Don’t fucking play with me,” he seethes. “You see too much of that Lulu. When you say you’re going home, you’re going the fuck home.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? What is wrong with you? What the hell happened to you?!” I’ve withstood a lot, mostly since his father died, and I honestly thought for a while that it was grief which turned him into this abusive fucking bastard. Only as it persisted, I realized the signs were there before his death, he’s just unleashing now.
“You have such a filthy, spoiled mouth! For just once, act like a fucking woman, or just keep that disgusting mouth shut!”
