"There's something urgent I have to do," I mutter. "You'll have to come with me."
She pales, panicking. "But... you haven't even touched your food."
My food is the least of my worries right now. I'm more stressed about the fact that I'll have to drag Monroe to a kill site with me, and I didn't bring a pair of handcuffs.
"Come on." I toss a hundred-dollar bill on the table and motion for her to follow me. "We're leaving."
With trepidation, she falls into step beside me as we walk to my ride. On the drive over, she's quiet and pensive, and I can almost feel her quickened heartbeat without so much as touching her.
"When we get there, I'm going to have to lock you in the trunk of the car while I do my job."
"W-What?" Pure panic washes over her face. She's suddenly pale as fuck, trembling at the prospect of being locked up. And that's when I remember her past, what her stepdad did to her, how he locked her in a closet. Fuck. I don't want to do this, but I'm afraid I don't have a choice. "No, Alaric. Please. Don't do that to me."
"I don't have a choice," I grunt in return. "Especially with your attempt to run away. I'm not fucking risking it."
I pull up in a back alley while her panicked hands cling onto me. "Please. Don't do this to me. I'm begging you. Don't lock me in the trunk, Alaric, please, fucking please. I'm so scared."
I glance at her, trying to figure out another way to do this. But there is no other way. Either I lock her in the trunk, or she has to come with me. At this point, I'm not sure which option would mentally scar her more. They're both fucked up.
"Do you understand what I'm going to do in there, Monroe?" I hiss at her. "I'm going to hurt someone. And you'll be forced to watch."
"Please." Her panicked expression doesn't wane as she clings to me. "I swear, I'll be good. Just take me with you. Don't leave me here. I can't take it. I'll die."
I groan, cursing out loud. She doesn't leave me with much choice. The worst part is, I'm going fucking soft for her. I want to help her. I want to make her feel safe, but the option she wants is even worse than the trunk. She just doesn't know it yet. But then my sadistic side awakens. The one that wants to do this to her, wants to show her how I make the money that pays for her grandmother's nursing home.
"You want to come with me?" I ask to make sure, and her vigorous nod convinces me she does. "Fine. We're going in. Stick by my side, don't leave me for a second. Don't look at anyone. Don't make a scene."
"Yes, of course," she answers quickly. "Thank you, Alaric."
Her sweetness makes my heart hurt as it did before. It's an unwelcome feeling, especially since I've almost managed to convince myself I don't have a heart at all.
I get out of the car and open the door for her as well. We walk to the front of the building. It's a sleazy, shitty strip club I normally wouldn't step foot in. Purgatory is just so much better.
I grab Monroe's hand and drag her beside me. We walk into the joint, and I instantly feel everyone's eyes going to my pretty companion, devouring her. Anger simmers inside me, threatening to boil over as I drag her inside the club. She does as she was told and keeps her gaze trained to the floor. I want to tell her she's a good girl, but my tongue is tied. I need to focus on what I have to do here, what Monroe is about to witness. I need to step into the role of what the Lombardis made me—a murderer.
Someone approaches us, but I give the prick an icy glare. It's enough for him to back off. I know exactly what he wants—a taste of Monroe. But I'll sooner rip his fucking eyeballs out than let him lay a single dirty finger on my property. She's mine now, and I'm getting really fucking close to my breaking point. I almost want one of these shitheads to make a wrong move so I can punish them in front of my girl.
We walk into a VIP room, where my victim is. I push aside the veiled curtain blocking our entrance, already knowing what kind of scene we're going to walk in on. It's easiest to take the bastards down when they're balls deep inside a hooker. And that's exactly what's happening in the back room of this shitty club.
An old, balding man with a beer belly is fucking a strung-out looking girl, grabbing her dark hair as he grunts and drives himself deeper and deeper inside her cunt.
"What the hell?" Monroe whimpers. I don't let go of her hand.
"Get out," I bark at the dark-haired girl. She looks like she's about to argue, but then I flash her my red bracelet, and her eyes widen, making her look even more drugged up. My heart slows into a steady beat, and I'm in the zone, ready to fire a bullet at the old prick. He grunts as the girl moves away, and his semi-flaccid cock drops out of her pussy. The girl makes a desperate grab for some clothes, but I stop her, pulling out a gun. "I said get the fuck out. You don't have time for that. Fucking leave."
She lets out a soft shriek and runs out of the room stark naked.
"W-What the hell?" Monroe repeats, clutching my hand for dear life.
"You," I bark at the guy. "Your name David Hodge?"
"Depends who's asking," the prick slurs drunkenly. Finally, I let go of Monroe's hand, letting her tremble alone in the corner of the sleazy room. The guy is still naked as I walk him up to the wall and slam his back against it.
"I said," I continue icily. "Are you David fucking Hodge?"
"I-I-I..." He catches sight of my red bracelet, and his eyes widen with fear. "Please, man. Let's talk about this."
It's all the confirmation I need to know this is the prick I'm supposed to kill.