Page 90 of Mutual Obsession (Rivals of Blackthorn #2)

“He knows he’s fucked now,” Jake says cheerfully beside me, squeezing my hand in excitement.

I nod and smile at him, pleased we’re finally getting somewhere. I can’t wait to gut this man for what he did to our girl.

“If I put a good enough offer on the table, can I leave here with my life?” Gregg asks, his gaze boring into Bree as he tries to read her.

“If you tell me everything I want to know, and the information you give me is good, the Doughtys will hold nothing further against you. As far as we’re concerned, you will have earned your freedom from us,” Bree states.

“What the fuck?!” Jake yells, and I have to hold him back when he charges towards the door.

I pull him back, turning so we’re facing each other. “Didn’t you listen to what she just said? She promised him that his debt to her and the Doughtys would be clear, and that he’d earn his freedom from them, but she made no promises not to hand him over to us.”

Liam chips in, sounding incredibly proud of his wife. “Bree is great with words. She’s promised him what he wants to hear, but has still left it open for us to hand him over to you. She hasn’t lied to him. She’s just been very careful with her wording.”

Jake lets out a long sigh, and I really want to pull him into my arms, but I know I can’t right now. So I settle for stroking my thumb over the back of his hand, reassuring him in the only way I can, as we both turn back to view the interaction in the next room.

“I don’t know much about The Aristocracy, but I know who The Count is. I also know details of a lot of high-ranking people who work for him. If I give you those people, you’ll let me go?” Gregg asks cautiously, clearly not sure if he can trust Bree.

“If the information turns out to be credible,” Bree says with a nod.

“I also want Indianna returned to me,” Gregg rushes out. Jacob and I tense on hearing her name.

Bree throws her head back and laughs loudly. “Fuck, no. That’s never going to happen.”

“She’s my girlfriend,” he grinds out, which only makes Bree laugh more.

“No, she fucking isn’t. She’s been running from you for nine years.

She’s terrified of you. Besides, she’s finally found happiness, and I won’t ever let you take that from her.

Any deal we make today will ensure you never go near her again, and that’s not optional,” Bree snaps, glaring at Gregg when his expression shifts to anger.

“We have no deal without her,” he yells, and my heart starts to race.

Before anything more can be said, Bree moves at lightning quick speed. She stands from her chair, leans towards Gregg, before burying her knife deep into his thigh. His loud scream fills the air, and as she pulls the blade out, blood spurts from the wound.

Bree sits back down with practiced ease, swiping the flat side of her blade across her thigh, wiping the blood onto her jeans. Once the knife is clean, she goes back to twirling it, staring at Gregg as he continues to cry, swear, and scream about his pain.

Blood drips down his leg, pooling on the floor beneath him, as Bree just sits there, waiting for Gregg to calm down. When he finally stops sobbing, she breaks the silence.

“Now we’ve established that Indie is not part of these negotiations, shall we move on?” Her tone and calm manner are just the same as before, like she didn’t just stab the man in the thigh.

I notice Liam beside me, grinning at his wife like he’s never been more proud of her, watching her every move, because he can’t get enough of her—despite the craziness.

“You fucking stabbed me, you crazy bitch,” Gregg yells.

Bree moves a lot slower this time, making sure Gregg can see exactly what she’s about to do.

I think in a way this is worse, as he can see it coming, but there’s not a fucking thing he can do about it.

He can do nothing but watch as she slams her knife into the opposite thigh, giving him a matching wound, as she pulls the blade out again.

“Name calling isn’t nice, Gregg,” Bree chastises, as he continues to scream and cry out in pain.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. My fucking legs. I’m going to bleed out,” he cries.

Bree shakes her head, tutting at him. “I missed your major arteries, so you’ll be fine for a bit. If you cooperate, we’ll put tourniquets on for you.”

“How do you expect me to cooperate when my legs feel like they’re on fucking fire?” he shouts at her, snot and spittle flying everywhere.

Bree wrinkles her nose at him in disgust. “At least you can feel your legs. I could do more damage, so you can’t.” She doesn’t even bother hiding the threat in her words.

“Fine, what do you want me to say?” he snaps, glaring at her with fire in his eyes.

“I have a computer mock-up of The Count. All I need you to do is confirm it’s him. Can you do that?”

Gregg’s eyes narrow on Bree, his gaze studying everything about her, no doubt trying to work out if there’s more to this than it appears. “Why a mock-up?”

“As I said earlier, nobody who is willing to talk has seen him in quite a few years, so we don’t have any actual pictures we can use to confirm his identity. I’m sure if we were to ask you for one, you’d tell us there are no photos of him, so I’m skipping that step.

“Indie has helped us create a mock-up of what he looked like, and we’ve used technology to age him. We just need you to confirm which is closest to him now,” Bree explains, though there’s something off about the way she’s explaining it to him, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.

“Fine, show me the photos,” he says.

On hearing this, Kian reaches over Kellan’s desk and picks up a folder, before heading into the room, closing the door behind him. He stands beside Bree, not moving away, even after she’s taken the folder from him.

Bree pulls out three pictures, handing one to Kian before taking one in each hand. They hold all three up in front of Gregg, and wait as he assesses each of them.

I keep my eyes fixed on Gregg as he looks at the photos.

Initially, he does a quick assessment of them all, before going back and staring at each one individually.

Although he tries to keep his expression neutral, I don’t miss the way his eyes light up slightly, and he has to fight the ghost of a smile from tipping up his lips.

“The middle one,” he states confidently, nodding towards the one in Bree’s right hand.

Kian collects the images and returns them to the folder before leaving the room. I’m a little surprised to see a sadistic smile on Kian’s face as he joins us back in the adjoining room, closing the door behind him.

Before I’m able to ask him about his smile, a loud scream draws my attention back to Bree and Gregg. She just sliced her blade across the length of his chest, cutting through his thin T-shirt, creating a bloody wound from the tip of his left shoulder down to the right side of his abdomen.

“What the fuck?! Son of a motherfucking bitch,” Gregg yells, as he thrashes in his chair, pulling against the restraints, which only makes his wound bleed further.

“I told you I’d cut you for every lie you told me,” Bree states lazily, cleaning her bloody blade on the opposite side of her jeans, clearly not bothered about getting his blood all over her clothes.

“I-I… I d-didn’t…lie,” the splutters, tears falling down his cheeks.

“You definitely fucking did. None of those mock-ups look anything like The Count. They were just random men. We didn’t show you the mock-ups created using Indie’s sketch, as I wanted to see how honest you’d be before I did that.

Turns out, testing you was a good fucking idea,” she snaps, glaring at him with fire in her eyes.

“I’m sorry. I won’t…lie…again,” he sobs, sounding more desperate this time.

“Why should I believe you?” Bree asks.

“Just try me and I’ll prove myself.”

Bree turns to look over her shoulder, nodding towards us.

Kian must understand the signal, as he picks up another folder from Kellan’s desk and walks back into the room.

Once the door is closed, he hands the folder to Bree.

This time there are four images, which Bree and Kian hold up for him to see.

There’s a flash of recognition in his eyes before he’s even scanned them all. He’s definitely been shown the real mock-ups of The Count, so now we just need to see if he’s going to be honest or not.

Gregg takes his time looking at each of them, though he spends the least amount of time on the one in Kian’s right hand, which only makes me more suspicious.

Gregg pulls in a shuddered breath, before saying, “They are all definitely images of The Count, though none of them are completely accurate. The most like him is probably the one in Bree’s left hand.”

Bree hands the pictures over to Kian, and they appear to have a silent conversation with their eyes, as he slides them back into the folder. Suddenly, another scream echoes around us as Bree slices across Gregg’s chest, in the opposite direction to the wound she just made.

He now has an X shape carved into his chest, blood dripping from the wound as Gregg screams and thrashes around, while Bree just smiles at her handiwork.

When Gregg’s sobs finally die down, Bree leans closer to him, her lips twisting into a sadistic grin as she says, “Did you know you have a tell?”

“What?” he splutters.

“There was one image that you barely even glanced at, while the others you spent more than enough time assessing. My guess is the one you couldn’t bring yourself to look at is the correct image,” Bree states, nodding her head towards Kian, who is now holding up the picture in question.

Gregg winces, his eyes growing wide as the gravity of the situation hits him. “It’s not. I swear, it’s the other image.”

Bree leans forward even more, and with a quick flick of her wrist, she slices open his right cheek. Blood mixes with his tears and snot as the facial wound drips down to join the rest of his bodily fluids.

“Do. Not. Lie,” Bree barks, punctuating each word with a growl.