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“Can you honestly stand there and tell me when you look at me, you don’t see Cynic’s hands all over me?”
“Shut up,” I seethed, clenching my hands tightly.
I didn’t want to talk about that.
I never wanted to talk about that.
“Or how about the fact that the entire clubhouse knows you’re married to a woman that a brother touched?”
“Shut up, Largo.”
She was pushing me. She wouldn’t stop talking about it.
Didn’t she see I was hanging on by a thread?
Did she even care?
“Or that I was pregnant and went to the Playground by myself, knowing damn well that it’s forbidden for a collared submissive to enter the club without her Dom? I defied club rules and lost our baby. The very baby we’d been trying to conceive for years. Can you look at me now?”
Within a split second, I found myself in a position of power, dominating over Largo as my hands tightly gripped her neck, watching, in a cold, detached way, as she desperately struggled to defend herself against my grasp. Despite the faintness of her screams and the sensation of her hitting me, none of those factors held any significance in the face of my overwhelming fury, which consumed every rational thought I possessed.
The strong desire to punish her weighed heavily on me, consuming my thoughts. I wanted to make her pay for what she’d done to us. To make her feel the pain and anguish I felt.
There was no rhyme or reason for my fury. All I cared about was making her pay, and I didn’t give a shit if I hurt her in the process. The tighter I squeezed, the harder she fought. I couldn’t stop myself even if I wanted to. Somewhere deep in my subconscious, I knew what I was doing was wrong, but it didn’t matter.
I wanted justice.
I needed to feel in charge again.
Needed to know that I was still me somehow.
The Devil had taken hold of me and I no longer recognized myself. It felt as if I was suffocating, that the walls were closing around me, cutting off any escape.
I was losing control and I knew it. I didn’t know how to stop it. Nothing I did worked. Like a fucking drug, I couldn’t walk away. She was my fix. All I had to do was make her bend to my will, but she wouldn’t bend.
Why wouldn’t she bend?
Seeing the fear in her eyes only propelled me forward. Even when her struggles eased, I never let go of her. I couldn’t. It was as if something sinister took root inside me, demanding I finish this once and for all.
A powerful force tackled me to the floor.
Fighting like my life depended on it, I hit, punched, and kicked my way free to find Montana, Malice, and Storm holding me to the floor. Blinking, I found Largo on the couch, not moving, while Shame administered CPR.
Oh, dear God.
What the hell had I just done?
Chapter Eighteen
Mercy
Malice shoved me forcefully into a cell, slamming the iron door closed behind me. Stumbling towards the back wall, I ripped off the hood the fucker placed over my head and I sat on the stool and dared not say a word. Rubbing my jaw, I winced, quickly removing my hand to see blood smeared across my fingers.
“Told you what would happen if you hurt her.”
Nodding, I didn’t bother responding.
I knew what he was talking about. As soon as Montana gave the okay, he would order me into the ring with Malice, where my brothers would each take a turn beating my ass. I would not stop them. If they were smart, they would just put a bullet in my head and put me out of my misery. I deserved nothing less after what I did to my wife.
