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I position the pliers in front of his mouth, but the fucker refuses to stay still.
“You’re going to make this so much harder on yourself. Mind over matter, buddy boy. You act like a real big, tough man out on the streets, but the minute you’re faced with some real shit, this is how you act? It’s fucking pathetic,” I grit out and slam his head back into the wall.
Holding it in place, I secure one of his front top teeth in my tool’s hold.
More moans. More grunts. More muffled pleas.
Ripping it out quickly would be easier, but he doesn’t deserve it. So, instead, I peel the tooth back slowly, feeling it grind beneath the weight of my pliers as blood starts to pool in his mouth.
“Ah nah pwe pwe!” he tries screaming around the pliers but chokes on his blood.
I finish plucking the tooth out before dropping it down his throat for him to swallow.
I remove the pliers, and he starts to scream and wail, and I feel zero guilt for this piece of shit in front of me. My father is the coolheaded one. I’m in a rush to react and feel remorse later.
But I know I won’t feel remorse for this fucker.
Not when he would’ve done who knows what to Giana in that alleyway had I not stepped in.
“Never again!” His words are a bit easier to understand now that my pliers are no longer in his mouth. “I won’t do it again!”
“Liar,” I taunt him. “Liar, liar, liar.”
I ball both of my hands into fists and use Benton as a punching bag, hitting him first with my right fist, and then my left, and repeating. My shoulder is screaming at me, sharp pains shooting up and down and begging me to end this. The wound is too fresh to be up to my shit, but I wasn’t going to let this fucker continue on after what he did to Giana—and I wasn’t about to allow anyone else to punish this fucker.
Blood and spit fly from every hole in his head as I punch him harder and harder until he passes out, and I finally let up.
“Piece of shit.” I spit on his body as he lies motionless on the ground.
His chest is rising and falling, but it won’t be for long. Just need to let him wake back up before I start round two.
* * *
After I clean myself up and get my soldier back in place to keep an eye on Benton, I try to come up with a plan to get to Giana. I’ve been beating anything with a pulse since I woke up from the shooting incident in the club, doing anything I can to try to get my mind off her. But it’s fucking useless. For whatever reason—manyreasons—she’s gotten under my skin. Before I even realized she was embedding herself into my heart…she was.
I’m a fucking goner for her.
The woman I never saw coming.
The one who could very well be my goddamn undoing…
Giana fucking Amato.
I won’t allow her to be married off to that fucking worthless trash. She thinks I have no idea, but there’s nothing I don’t know about her now. No more secrets—on her end—and I need to move and get her out of there before she’s in The Blood Syndicate’s hands.
Things will only get more difficult once she’s married off to Santiago Martínez.
It can’t happen.
Ai mali estremi, estremi rimedi.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
I’ve been ignoring these fucking ruthless feelings, shoving them away and pretending like I’m just confused. Like I’m fucked up from Julissa and Sofia and finding a connection for the first time with a woman since my wife…and then having her be the enemy.
But really…she isn’t the enemy.
She isn’t who started this war.
