Page 16 of Filthy Little Fix

And part of the reason I wouldn't even truly consider killing him is that he fucked us once and saved us another. We're even.

"No, Luca," I say, gesturing for him to rest the gun. "Just let him go."

Luca freezes. Thinking. When we kidnap someone, that persondeservesit, and when that person deserves it, theyrarelysurvive to tell the tale. Simply letting a hostage go home isn't our practice.

I understand that, however, these are curses of being a just man (and deeply disturbed by the aberration that goes by the name of Nyx).

"Let him go?" Luca says. "After everything? He knows too much. He's seen all our codes, and we don't even know if he told us all the vulnerabilities he found; he's dangerous out there."

"Heisdangerous," I agree, running a hand through my hair. Nyx is frustrating. "But not like a common enemy. He's... different. Keeping him here is a bigger risk than letting him go." A risk to my control. To my goddamn sanity. "He has no place in our kind of business," I lie. Hedoeshave a place, no matter how much I hate to admit it—a fucked-up courage, a quick intellect, disregarding his disgusting physical reactions.

I look at Luca, making sure my eyes convey absolute determination.

"Right," Luca murmurs, thoughtfully. "He works in an office. You're right."

I hadn't really paid attention to Sal's reports about his personal life. The office information is new.

An office. Thatlunatic?

I clear my throat. "Get rid of him. Tonight. Take him somewhere remote, a dump, a hotel—fuck it, I don't care. Just get rid of him."

I can't imagine him in formal wear. Wearing a decent suit or polished shoes and passing through the security turnstiles of a multinational corporation.

"Just... dump him, sir? No warning to stay away from the family?"

I'd tell Luca to threaten him. But Nyx would like that.

"He certainly knows that," I murmur. "Just make it clear he doesn't have a place here."

"Affirmative." Luca's face returns to its usual mask, though his bewilderment remains.

I watch him go. I don't understand the hard knot tightening in my stomach—I'm doing the right thing, getting rid of the problem. Excising the cancer before it spreads.

The image of Nyx, kneeling, eyes heavy with desire, still burns behind my eyelids.

He's trash.

I repeat the words, trying to make them stick.

Just trash.

SEVEN

LEO

No one has ever excitedme as much as him. His hateful words still echo in my ears:a reminder of who's in charge. Oh, Iknowwho's in charge. And Iloveit. I love how he loses his temper, how hehasto touch me, how he tries to dominate and only fuels the fire.

My body relaxes against the wall. I replay the scene. His palm against my face, hard, withhatred. He almost crushed my cheeks, forcing my head up, pulling me so close to his mouth.

Everything is Dante, everything is that slap.

I lose myself in the closed labyrinth of his thought, of his very being; onlyhim. His face consumed by contempt, his jaw clenched, veins bulging in his temples. The smell of cigarettes, the mineral perfume. His animalistic way of gripping.

I close my eyes. I shudder. I imagine him. I imagine his hands holding me by the hair. I imagine him pulling me close,closer, until my body loses all weight. I imagine his voice, hoarse, threatening everything he would do to me. I imagine his knee between my legs, his body crushing mine against the concrete, and the grotesque pleasure of being at the mercy of someone who would break every bone in my body.

When I think about what he would do to me if he had freedom for all his instincts, I get lost.

I don't know how much time passes. I stay there, feeling the throbbing burn on my cheek—the chemical ecstasy, a nervous fire. I follow with my gaze every dusty movement of light across the walls, the distant echo of footsteps in the corridor. The taste of water in my mouth turned metallic, mixed with the slight taste of blood from some open wound in my gums from the slap.