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I drummed my fingers on my knee until, a short moment later, a chocolate-haired man entered the room, his green eyes wide in fear, looking at me as if I stole his last breath.
Callan jumped behind him, pointing his gun at the back of his head. “Don’t move, so maybe I won’t shoot.”
“What do you want?” He breathed heavily, his body sweating.
I drank the glass of scotch, amused at the growing fear in the motherfucker’s eyes. I put the glass back on the table before getting up. I slowly approached the good-looking boy and looked into his scared eyes. “You hurt someone I care about,” I said coldly, my gaze deadly.
“Wh—What?” The rich boy struggled to speak, his body shaking.
“Melanie Atwood ring a bell?” I tilted my head to the side, my hands crossed behind. “As far as I know, you hurt her in a fucking disgusting way.” I kept my composure, although the rage was tearing me apart from the inside out.
“N-no,” he stuttered. “She wanted it. She begged me for it.”
“Tsk-tsk.” I shook my head, and the guy was shitting his pants. “You should’ve told the truth. I don’t like liars.” I took out my gun and cocked it before his eyes.
“I-I’m sorry.” His lip was shaking as he spoke. “I did it. I did it. I’m so sorry. Tell Melanie that I’m sorry.”
I grabbed the man by his jaw, squeezing it hard with my fingers so his mouth opened. I pushed my gun down his throat, and the sound of him choking filled the empty room. “Time for apologies is up. Now you have to pay,” I said sarcastically, and the man pleaded, choking on my gun barrel.
“Please, mercy.”
“No one hurts my woman like that and lives,” I said and pulled the trigger.
I took a deep breath, wiping my gun with a tissue.
“Get rid of the body,” I said harshly, and Callan only nodded before I left for the car.
I LEANED AGAINST THE CAR, staring at my phone screen like a fool. I waited for Melanie to answer my text. I had a weird feeling that something had happened because usually, she would text me back within minutes.
“Boss?” Callan’s voice snapped me back from my thoughts. I looked at him, and I knew something was off. I could read his facial expressions like an open book.
“What is it?” I asked, dryly, impatiently.
“We have a problem.” His tone gave away that shit just hit the fan.
“Cut to the chase.”
“I ordered Franco to monitor the situation at Atwood’s, and he just called me. Melanie is on her way to the hospital. He doesn’t know in what condition.”
“Get in the car.” I jumped inside, shutting the door. I started the car engine, and after Callan got in, I drove away faster than a speeding bullet.
“Boss, slow down! You’re drivin’ like a madman,” Callan commented as I was speeding up the highway, overtaking any car on my way.
“I can’t, Callan!” I hissed, my gaze never leaving the road. “Melanie is in danger.”
“What makes you think so?” He frowned.
“It’s the perfect opportunity. He’s gonna kill her.”
“Who?”
“My father,” I breathed out. “He wants Melanie dead.”
Callan’s phone rang, and he quickly glanced at the screen. “It’s Franco,” he said before answering the call. “Sup?”
I felt my heart pounding rapidly, adrenaline rushing through every single vein. I didn’t remember the last time I was so scared. It must’ve been so long ago because I already forgot how dreadful the feeling of the scare was.
I wasn’t sure how long Callan’s phone call took, but to me, every second lasted an eternity. He ended the call before turning to me, saying in his Aussie accent, “Would ya slow down? She’s stable.”
