Page 24 of Under Your Scars

“Frank Valenti. He owns the place. And then his friends…Vic, Mike, Oliver, Simon, and Mario.”

“I’m going to kill them,” he growls, ready to set the world on fire with his rage.

He reaches for the window, but the last thing I want him to do is leave. If he leaves this apartment, there isn’t a single soul in the Hellfire Lounge that will survive the rest of the night, guilty or not.

He killed three men for chasing me into an alley for Christ’s sake. I wouldn’t put it past him to kill everyone in that club simply for the crime of being in the same building as me without his permission.

I can see it in his eyes that he’s gone blind with rage. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time, to see him so unhinged over something that happened to me. “Wait,” I beg, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck, trying to hug him close to my chest. My voice seems to snap him out of whatever chaos is in his mind. I feel his shoulders relax,slightly, and then he looks at me.

“They need to know what happens when they touch what’s mine, Elena. They’re going to convert religions, because they won’t be praying to God, they’ll be praying to me. Begging for my fucking mercy after I hunt them all down and show them the true meaning of fear.”

“Okay,” I breathe, and with trembling hands, I cup his masked jaw and force him to rest his forehead against mine. I don’t know what else to do to calm him down.

He grips my wrists tightly, squeezing and then relaxing and squeezing again, as if he’s trying to ground himself. “I can feel them, you know.”

“Feel what?”

He takes a shuddering breath. “I designed the mask myself. There are sensors on the outside that project whatever is touching the mask onto my skin. It tingles. I can feel your fingers. I can feel your little breaths across my face.” He presses closer into me. “I can feel it all.”

I run my fingers along his cheek and then I gulp before pressing my lips to the front of his mask where his own would be. I look up at him from under my lashes. “You can feel that?”

By the way his shoulders slump, it had the exact reaction I wanted—it calmed him down. He chuckles sadly and nods. “Yeah. I can feel that.” He runs his hand over my hair, smoothing out the tangled, sticky strands. “Why didn’t you press your panic alarm?”

“Because you would have come in there and gone on a murder spree to get to me, and I didn’t think it was enough of an emergency for that. I’m okay. It could have been worse.”

“If your safety is even slightly in jeopardy, it’s an emergency to me. Next time, press the goddamn button.”

“I don’t want to be the reason you lose your humanity.”

He rubs my bottom lip with his gloved hand. “If you’re so concerned about my humanity, Elena, then reach into my soul and find it, because I’m not sure I have any left.”

CHAPTER 7

THE SILENCER

Victor Moreno. Mike Jones. Oliver Priest.Simon Wayne. Mario De La Cruz.

Frank Valenti’s friends are all quite the characters. Criminal records the size of phone books and about thirty active warrants between the five of them. They’re all rich like their boss, but what his friends don’t have is his influence.

Valenti’s got the MCPD by the nuts and all the judges in New Jersey in his pocket. Nobody’s going to go after him. His friends are fair game though, so they cozy up to their boss in hopes to stay on his good side. They’re almost always on the top floor of the Hellfire Lounge. They have no need to leave. They have goons to do everything for them. The second any of them steps outside, they run the risk of going to prison.

Prison is the least of their fucking problems right now.

Can’t go to prison if you’re dead.

Valenti keeps the club heavily guarded on the ground, but fortunately for me, he skimps on the security for the rooftop. Once inside, all I have to do is use the rafters of the industrial style building to navigate my way to Valenti’s private suite.

These men live off whiskey and cigars. I’m not sure how they don’t give themselves alcohol poisoning when all they do is sit on their asses and drink.

I’ve watched them grope the poor bartender at least fifty times. It doesn’t require much critical thinking to conclude that Elena was subject to the same abuse when she was here a few short hours ago. Their inability to keep their hands to themselves is precisely the reason they’re going to have bullets in their brains soon.

When I saw those fucking marks around her neck, my body was no longer running on blood and oxygen, but fury and vengeance. If she hadn’t begged me to stay with her until she fell asleep, I would have torn apart every person in this club, limb from limb, until I got to Valenti and his friends and strangled them with their own intestines.

That rage never subsided, and now that I’m here, I’m certain that after I’m done with Valenti’s friends, I’m going to need a long shower to wash off all the blood.

I watched Valenti leave thirty minutes ago, and it doesn’t seem like he’s coming back anytime soon. I wish I had dished out my revenge while he was here, but I was stuck trying to come up with a plan that involved incapacitating him and his friends so I could torture them.

Unfortunately, I am not superhuman. I’m one man and taking out six armed men without killing them isn’t easy. Not killing them is a very important part of the equation for me. I like to play with my food.