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I love Jordan.

The keen edge of the blade tore through the apple’s flesh. A chunk of it fell into the sink next to the pieces of skin.

Had she been lying, or had she been telling the truth? I’d convinced myself she wasn’t as excited about the wedding as a bride should be.

Perhaps I’d been wrong.

The last piece of skin landed in the sink. I took a bite of apple while Hank fell silent. He appeared to have realized his odds of survival were better if he didn’t talk so fucking much.

I didn’t take a second bite. Instead, I walked toward him, knife and apple in hand. My steps echoed against the bare wooden floors.

Hank inched back until he hit the couch. His gaze darted toward the door, clearly gauging his odds of escaping before I reached him. They weren’t good.

I stopped a foot away. Up close, Hank’s eyes were slightly bloodshot, and he reeked of cologne. He stared up at me, his face several shades paler than normal.

My rage simmered and swelled. It strained at its leash, begging me to let it loose and carve out my frustrations on a man who was little more than an overblown bully.

The wedding. The Brotherhood. The stress on Ayana’s face when she’d been talking to him.

All that would feel so much better with a little slice or two.

My gaze flicked from Hank’s face to his hand, to the couch, and back again. A crinkle formed between his brows before realization dawned.

He opened his mouth, then shut it and rested a shaky hand on the top of the couch.

I shook my head and notched my chin up. He hesitated before turning his hand palms up. Beads of sweat dotted his hairline.

I placed the apple in his palm—softly, almost gently.

A beat passed. The crinkle in his brow smoothed, and his shoulders relaxed. “If you?—”

He cut off with a piercing scream as I brought the knife down. It happened so swiftly Hank didn’t get a chance to react before I drove the blade straight through the core.

His scream was still ringing in the air when the tip of the blade met human flesh. Blood stained the fruit, its faint coppery scent mixing with the smell of urine as Hank pissed himself.

He held the apple, seemingly catatonic with shock as I stepped back. The knife quivered from the residual force of my violence before it finally stilled.

If I hadn’t stopped when I had, it would’ve torn through muscle and bone and rendered his right hand useless.

My lip curled. I’d merely nicked him, but his near brush with mutilation had wiped away all his false bravado. His skin resembled wax paper as he shook like a lone leaf in the wind.

He had no problem threatening or spying on Ayana, but push back a little and he pissed himself.

Pathetic.

I left him in his apartment, covered in piss and blood, and calmly made my way back to my car.

If I’d had my way, I would’ve taken things a few steps further. However, Ayana was the last person he’d been seen with—her building’s security would’ve documented his arrival—and I didn’t want to place her in the middle of a murder investigation.

So no, I couldn’t deal with the agent the way I wanted yet, but I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do.

What happened in Hank’s apartment proved you didn’t always need words to communicate.

He’d heard my warning loud and clear.

CHAPTER15

Vuk