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Aithan

Finally, the bastard is on his knees, arms tied behind his back, his blood soaking the warehouse floor beneath him. He’s whimpering now, the sharp scent of piss filling the air. The second I walked into this place, I could smell his fear. It thickens with every agonizing second that passes.

I crouch in front of him, my knife glinting under the dim industrial lights. “You know who I am?”

The man nods frantically, his busted lip trembling. His face is a mess of bruises, his eye swollen shut from Leon’s earlier handiwork. But that’s just the warm-up. The real punishment begins now.

“Good.” I grip his chin, forcing his terrified gaze to meet mine. “Then you know why you’re here.”

“I—I was just following orders,” he stammers, voice shaking. “Please—”

I slam my fist into his gut, cutting off whatever pathetic excuse he was about to spit out. He gags, gasping for air, his body doubling over before Leon shoves him upright again.

“You poisoned my wife,” I say, voice deadly quiet. Visualizing what would have been the outcome of his attack if I hadn’t gone looking for my wife. “You tried to take what belongs to me.”

“I— I didn’t know! I swear, I didn’t know it was your wife!”

A dark chuckle escapes my lips. “That’s your defense? That you would’ve poisoned some other woman, but not my wife?” I shake my head, clicking my tongue. “Wrong answer.”

I stand, rolling up the sleeves of my crisp black shirt. I took off my jacket before entering—no need to ruin it with this rat’s blood.

Leon hands me the bolt cutters. I balance them in my hands, testing their weight. “You know what happens to traitors?”

He’s sobbing now. “Please, I—I’ll tell you everything. Lazaro hired me! He paid me to do it, I swear!”

“What did you just say?” Leon lets out a dangerous growl. “Do you know the weight of this accusation?”

“Yes, I know. He wanted your wife out of the way.”

"But you said you did not know she was my wife."

"It was after the attempt. He angrily contacted me to let me know I did not complete my job."

My blood turns ice cold. How could Lazaro do this? Why would he do this? Is it because I did not marry his daughter? But the financial boost and business security he has enjoyed over the past two decades courtesy of the Elliniki is a fit he would never have managed on his own. Even in ten lifetimes.

My father would feel this betrayal to his soul, as Lazaro is not just a member of the Elliniki council, but his lifelong friend.

I ask Leon to get a recorded confession for proof. When he was done, I nod at my men. One of them shoves a cloth into the guy’s mouth and secures it with a gag. While another two tighten their grip on his right hand, restraining it in place.

I take my time positioning the bolt cutters around his right wrist. “Since you tried to take something from me, it’s only fair that I take something from you.”

His muffled screams tear through the warehouse as I crunch through bone and sinew, severing his right hand clean off from the wrist.

Blood spurts. His wailing is deafening as Leon takes off his gag and lets him drop to the floor, his body convulsing in agony as he clutches the bloody stump where his hand used to be.

“You have another one,” I remind him, crouching down. “You may yet use it to come after me again.”

He’s shaking uncontrollably, his body drenched in sweat. “No! No, I won’t!”

“I have to make sure you do not. Don’t I?”

He’s sobbing, eyes wild. “I said I was sorry. PLEASE!”

“Were you sorry when you got a rattlesnake? How about when you milked it? Making sure to get the very potent potion of its venom? I bet you were whistling. Now you are sorry?” I ask, watching him bleed to death.

He tries to say something, but he is no longer coherent.

“You should’ve never put your hands on what’s mine.” My voice is ice.

I take his left hand this time. One last crunch of metal, and it, too, falls to the blood-soaked floor. His screams are hoarse, raw, reverberating off the warehouse walls.

Leon steps forward, wiping the severed hands on a cloth, completely unfazed. “What do you want to do with him?”

I tilt my head, watching as the pathetic excuse for a man convulses. He won’t last long. Blood loss will take care of him soon enough.

“Leave him,” I say simply. “Let his fellow rats have him for a while. You can have his body taken care of tomorrow.”

Leon nods and pulls out a chair. I know he would not leave until the bastard dies. This is something I like about Leon. He never leaves loose ends.

I turn to the two severed hands on the table, blood pooling around them. A slow smirk curves my lips. Perfect.

Later That Night

I enter the penthouse, the faint sound of the city buzzing below. Yelena is in the living room, curled up on the couch with a book in her lap. When she hears me, she glances up, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re late,” she murmurs, closing the book. “Busy working?”

I say nothing as I walk over to her, reaching into the black velvet bag in my hand. I pull out the small, bloodied box, placing it carefully on the glass coffee table before her.

Yelena eyes it warily. “What is that?”

I lean down, brushing a stray curl behind her ear, my lips barely an inch from hers. “A promise kept.”

She swallows, studying me before hesitantly reaching for the box. She lifts the lid— and gasps.

The two severed hands lay inside, wrapped carefully in silk.

She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t recoil. Instead, she blinks, tilting her head as if processing the gift.

“I told you, didn’t I?” I murmur, brushing a knuckle down her jaw. “Anyone who puts their hands on you will pay with their lives.”

A slow, dark smile curves her lips. Because she understands.

I kiss her, swallowing her silent approval, letting her taste the brutality of my love.

And at this moment, I realize I will kill for her again without hesitation. And the next bastard will be Lazaro. The bastard who ordered this hit.