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“He has to die, but I don’t want to be the one to do it.”
“Do you want to watch it happen?”
She looks back in my direction, the slightest nod of her head moving me into action.
I step past her, grabbing the sharpest knife from the table, and step in behind the man.
She shifts, a little nervous gesture as I grip the man’s hair and hold his head up. He doesn’t whimper or beg, and if I had to guess, he’s already past the point of being able to respond.
“Keep your eyes open,” I tell her as I run the knife from one side of his neck to the other.
It’s honestly a lackluster death, his heart already beating so slowly that it doesn’t have the dramatic spurt one would expect.
She keeps her eyes locked on him, watching every second until the blood stops flowing from his newest wound.
“Alani?”
I could strangle Nash for interrupting this moment.
“Ayla wants to speak with you.”
Alani lifts her eyes to me, holding my gaze for a long moment before turning and leaving the room.
“I thought you were leaving,” I say, wiping the dirty knife on the guy’s jeans before dropping it back to the table.
“I wanted to discuss the two of them,” Nash says, making the regret in calling him in the first place even bigger.
“It’s simple. You need to protect them.”
He nods, as if that was always his plan.
“That’s easier said than done. It’s easy for Ayla, but I don’t think threatening Alani with an ass whipping is going to have the same affect it does on her sister.”
I barely manage to hold back the growl at him even implying putting his hands on Alani.
He chuckles, telling me I’m not as good at controlling my face as I am at controlling the sounds leaving my body. When the corners of his mouth pull up in a smirk, it feels like it was a test.
I fucking despise people who do that shit. It’s reminiscent of the Severino brothers. Everything was a fucking test with those two.
“Alani is mine to worry about,” I say, the warning in my voice that says him trying to say anything different will be met with a resistance he won’t like.
I’ve fought this fucking territorial sense I’ve felt from the first time I met her, and I’m fucking done. It only causes undue stress. I know it has everything to do with witnessing her being hurt, knowing from the look in the man’s eyes that he would deliver Alani to Raul as ordered but she wouldn’t be in the same condition she left work in last night.
I regret not cutting his dick off before he passed out. It seems like a wasted opportunity now.
“For how long?”
“For how long what?” I snap.
“How long is she your responsibility? I need to know if I’m going to need to step back in tomorrow or the next day when she gets on your nerves.”
I want to say never, but I know myself too well for that. I’ve lived a solitary life for years, and I’m not exactly known for having patience. Although I can’t see it now, there may come a time when the shiny new toy is no longer fun to play with.
Instead of answering him, I walk past him, heading out of the room.
Both women are sitting quietly, an air of annoyance heavy around them. Neither seem happy, and it’s my experience that’s always the best compromise.
Nash heads to the kitchen sink and washes his hands even though he never touched the man. He looks to Ayla when he’s done.
“Ready to go?”
Ayla looks at her sister, but Alani is watching me.
“You should go with them,” I say, my tone flat.
“Probably,” Alani says, but instead of standing, she leans back and crosses one leg over the other, getting comfortable on the sofa.
Ayla doesn’t say a word as she walks across the room, following Nash out of the house.
“You really need to go.”
Alani doesn’t look impressed with my tone at all, but there’s no way to control the thickness in my voice, much like the thickening of my cock.
“If you stay…” I warn.
“I know,” she says, her eyes drifting lower on my body, a mischievous glint in them.
Chapter 25
Alani
I should probably care that my sister, my only living relative, is pissed when she leaves, but I said my piece, told her how I felt, and what I was going to do. It’s not my problem to worry about. I’m not responsible for her feelings. I keep saying it, but I doubt anyone will actually listen to me.
I know she worries about me, and no amount of times I tell her not to will make that change, but she has to accept that I’m an adult at some point.
She accused me of spiraling, of making decisions that will put me in harm’s way, and she was less than impressed when I told her anything that happens is on me.
