The heavy metal door slams shut behind me, and I watch as the lone figure sitting in the middle of the empty factory floor snaps his head up. I don’t know why he bothers though, he can’t see shit under the blacked-out bag that sits over his head.
I walk toward him, knowing the rhythmic sound of my footsteps getting closer would be playing all sorts of tricks on his mind. He has no fucking idea who took him, no clue where he is, or what he’s even in for. Though I’m sure he has plenty of enemies, all who would want him dead.
Mikhail fucking Russo.
The motherfucker who dared put his hands on my girl.
I figured that snatching him up was going to be hard, but I’ve come to learn that guys like Russo, the ones who think they’re untouchable, are usually the easiest ones to take down. They think no one can get to them, so they lower their guard. Grabbing him and forcing him into my factory was a fucking walk in the park, and I bet getting what I need from him is going to be just as easy. Though, even if I can, he’s fucked anyway.
I was mostly all good with Ocean’s plan of getting at Nic and using the Wolves to do our dirty work, but then this fucker had to go and jump her in, claiming that she’s his now. Bullshit like that ain’t going to fly, not where I’m concerned.
From the second Ocean stepped into the Wolf Den, it’s just problem after problem. While I'm more than happy to sit back and deal with it, I don’t want that for her, not when it’s not the life she wanted for herself. If it was her life’s long dream to become a fucking Wolf, then I’d be standing here at the sideline, cheering my girl on. But this is far from anything she ever wanted for herself, and what can I say? I’m a man who sticks to my word. I told her that I’d give her the fucking world, and I intend to come through on that. When I'm finished here, Ocean will have her freedom, and there’s no doubt about it. The question is, how long will it take to make it happen?
Fuck, I’d give anything to go back and be there to stop her from walking through those doors, and I’m sure she would too, no matter how many times she tells me that she stands by her decision. I think she’s too scared to admit when she’s wrong, too strong, and so fucking stubborn, but that’s what I’m here for. I’ll always be there, standing right behind her, lifting her up when she can’t do it herself.
I don’t know when or how it happened, but at some point over the last few months, Oceania Munroe became my fucking world. I breathe for her. Everything I do is for her, and I don't give a shit if that makes me sound whipped. I’ll fucking admit it, I’m completely whipped by her. She walked into my life with that smart mouth, thinking she could take me down, and fuck, she certainly did, but not in the way she was intending.
Without her … that’s a world I don’t want to live in, one I refuse to live in. Unfortunately for Russo, he’s the one obstacle stopping me from giving Ocean everything she ever wanted. She deserves better than that. I just wish she could see that she doesn’t need the Wolves at her back when she has me. I understand it though, she wanted an army and to feel closer to her father, but she got so much more than what she bargained for.
I step in front of Russo and grab hold of the black bag that sits over his head. I tear it off and watch with a smirk as he squints into the midday light that shines through the old windows. “I trust you had a comfortable night,” I say, waiting for him to adjust to the light and figure out who the fuck stands before him.
Russo watches me through narrowed eyes, and the second he sees me, he lets out a breath of relief. Big mistake, but that’s okay. He’s about to learn who Colton Carrington is the hard way. “What do you think you’re doing, kid?” he questions, watching me closely as I step away from him, sliding my suit jacket off and placing it over a steel beam. “You do realize that by now my men would have figured out that I’m gone, and will be hunting you down. They’re going to fucking kill you for this, mark my words, boy.”
I laugh. I fucking love it when bastards like this underestimate me. It always makes for the best kind of fun. “I highly doubt that,” I tell him, walking back over and placing myself in front of him before rolling up my sleeves. “You see, your men are fucking morons who stood less than ten feet away while their boss was swept off the side of the road and didn’t notice a goddamn thing. I have plenty of time to say what I need to say before they even get close to figuring out what the fuck is going down here.”