Lion and I walk deeper into the basement, neither of us saying a word. The tension between us isn’t as palpable as it was before, but I’ll chalk it down to us descending onto our only hope. I’ve never cared for someone that wasn’t my sister the way Lion does Malia. If I didn’t know any better I’d question their relationship being more than non-blood siblings.
Malia doesn’t look at him the way she looks at me, so I want to believe their relationship doesn’t go further than what they show or say. And I’m not blind to the way he looks at Akila. But the fact I’ve never been as bloodthirsty as he is over someone who isn’t Malia, the same girl he’s ready to burn the world down for raises all the doubts. Is Lion Castello a threat to my future with Malia aside from him needing to find me worthy enough?
Fuck me, I’ve turned into a jealous twat. And jealousy isn’t what we need right now.
We come to a stop in front of a door and Lion looks over his shoulder at me, assessing me up and down. Just when I think he’s going to let me take the lead, he bursts through the door. The sound of a gunshot bounces off the concrete prison and my jaw clenches as my ears start to ring.
It takes a minute to hear Deavers’ scream, a smirk pulls at my mouth when I see the bullet hole in his kneecap. Lion turns to me and raises an eyebrow.
“Let’s see what you’re made of, cop,” he taunts with a crooked grin. “I heard about Martinez’s man, don’t kill him until we get some answers.”
When Lion moves to the corner of the low-lit room, I see a table with different instruments arrayed on it. Oren stands to the left of the table, his glare set on Deavers and, if it weren’t for the look in his eyes, the way his arms are crossed against his chest and his leg kicked back on the wall, he’d almost look like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
Deavers cries, bound to a chair in the center of the room, snot running down his face and dripping off his chin. Oren had removed the gag, making me think that, in the right situation, he might not mind someone’s pleading and crying as much as he said at the bureau.
Blood covers Deavers’ body in places that weren’t bloody when I went to get The Omen and Lion. The blood isn’t from the gunshot wound flowing from his knee, either. I shoot a glare at Oren and he breaks his gaze away from Deavers long enough to smirk at me and shrug.
“I never liked the cunt,” he says, pushing off the wall and reaching out to choose a device from the table. “And I wouldn’t have had a chance to get my own hands on him with the two of you.”
“So, what I’m hearing is, you didn’t need me to go get Lion and The Omen?”
Oren chuckles darkly while looking over a screwdriver and then reaching it out for me to take. “Nah. Cellphones are a blessing, aren’t they?”
I walk forward and drive my knee into Oren’s junk while taking the screwdriver from his hand as he falls to the ground with a curse. Fuck waiting until Malia’s home.
Asshole.
Not wasting any more time with Oren’s games, I spin around and stalk toward Deavers. Adrenaline pumping faster through my veins with each step I take toward him. There’s fear in his eyes as they widen.
In this moment, I can feel it; the power people crave once they’ve had a taste. I taste it now and realize the unimaginable power fear holds when you wield it like a weapon, then reap the benefits. I understand a little more now about this life I’ve found myself thrust back into after so many years.
And it feels so fucking good.
9
Liam
“Liam,what’sgoingon?”Deaver sobs. “Please, let me go I don’t know any—“
I slam the screwdriver into his thigh, in the same leg Lion shot. He screams in my ear, and I relish it. His cries. spurring me on as I drive the shank of the tool deeper, forcing the tip through sinew and muscle.
The snot bubbles from Deavers’ nose and I pull back, leaving the instrument in his leg. My head tilts and I take a step back, looking at the blubbering peace of shit praying to his God, reminding me of what Oren said about God turning his back on them.
Us.
I’ve never done this before. It’s not like I was raised to torture others for information, but I have an audience and I can’t hesitate and let them think I can’t handle this.
“Liam, please, don’t do this,” Deavers pleads.
My fist snaps out, connecting with his jaw, a tooth bounces on the ground and I smile, sending another punch into his already broken nose.
The bastard wails, and it makes me think he just might be an easy one to crack. At least it seems easy to me. How a man who crumbles into sobs and tears in an instant became an FBI agent is beyond me. Makes me glad I got Shura and not this fuckwit into the Bratva to get information on the Olins.
“Where’s Tawny, Deavers?” I ask him, shoving my booted foot between his legs and pressing down on his dick.
His eyes drop to the floor, telling me he’s about to lie. I press into him harder, making him try to shift away from me in the seat. Oren secured him enough he could hardly move at all, but it was fun to watch him squirm.
“I-I—“ he starts but I put all my strength into smashing his cock and balls, cutting off the lie he’s about to spew and turning it into another scream.