Page 127 of Cassio
“One word, Marco motherfucking King,” I heard her say, her voice cold and dark. And her smile, it was one I knew well. It was the same one I felt as I killed Chad. Or any other motherfucker that hurt people I loved. My wife stood there like a goddess of vengeance, in all her glory. “Just say one word,” she taunted.
“Áine,” I called out as I grabbed a key from the side and unlocked the door.
She whipped around, knife still clutched in her hand and her eyes wild. I knew the feeling. I lived through it. Seen it on my friends’ faces. But somehow it never quite hit me like this. Seeing it on the woman I loved.
Marco whimpered on the floor, a pool of blood all around him. I didn't give a shit. He got better than he deserved. All I cared about was about my woman right here.
“It’s okay, Butterfly,” I told her in a hushed tone. “It’s me. I came for you.”
The wild look in her eyes slowly faded, bringing back her shimmering blues of the deepest oceans.
“Hunter?”
I smiled. “Yes, it’s me.” I extended my hand, asking silently for the knife. Her eyes flickered to my hand, then to the knife and back to Marco.
“He won’t survive,” I cooed. “You did good. But let me deal the final blow.”
“Why?” Her voice was coarse, as if she just woke up from a nightmare.
“You are too good to deal with his death,” I said. “He doesn’t deserve your hands to give him that final blow.”
In an agonizingly slow move, she handed me the knife with shaky hands. “I made him scream,” she rasped, her voice trembling.
“You did good,” I told her. “Now, let’s save the other women.”
There was nothing more I wanted to do but to pull her to me into a hug. Fuck, I was scared whether she’d welcome it, unsure what she endured.
“Psycho bitch,” Marco grunted, his whole body a bloody mess. There were patches of skin missing off of him.
I pulled out my gun and pointed at my brother’s skull. “Nobody talks to my wife like that,” I hissed. He wasn’t worth any more of my time or Áine’s suffering.
He wasn’t worth it. Period.
Pulling the trigger, the bullet flew straight into his skull, killing him on the spot. And then for the safe measure, I put another two bullets into his skull and one straight into his black heart.
There would be no reincarnations of that weasel.
ChapterForty-Two
ÁINE
He was dead.
I watched Marco’s mutilated body with cold detachment. Maybe it was my coping mechanism. I didn’t think so. I felt no regret for what I’d done to him. In a strange way, it felt satisfactory. To make him pay for the sins I’d known he’d done.
Shots and gunfire sounded in the distance, waking me up from my hazed vengeance state of mind. I met Cassio’s gaze. My husband.What will he think?
Lowering my eyes, I noted what a state of a mess I was.
Slowly, ever so slowly, I looked up again and our gazes collided. I let myself drown in that dark gaze that in a strange way offered light and security. The memories and pain that hid in the fog. He was right, I needed them.
Maybe now, I’d start healing. Except, I didn’t want to do it without him. I needed him forme. My heart thumped in my chest for him. It has ever since he rescued me. Amidst the pain and screams that my mind couldn’t let go, it was always him reaching out to offer help. His hand in the fog offering the rose inked hand to pull me out.
“I love you,” I rasped out. Amidst the blood and death, screams and pain, the words slipped out. It was the wrong time and the wrong place. I didn’t care. “For years, I couldn’t remember,” I muttered, twisting my bloodied hand over my wrist. “In my dreams, I’d hear shit but none of it made sense. But I’d remember your hand, reaching out. And when I thought I’d drown in the fog,” I uttered, my own voice choked with feelings that were suppressed for years, “... it was your hand pulling me out.”
“Áine-” he started but I cut him off.
“I know, I’m broken,” I muttered, sniffling, “and this… all of this is fucked up.” I extended my hands. We were surrounded by smeared blood and evidence of me going all Jack The Ripper on his half-brother. “But I-I can’t get my shit together without you.”
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