Page 30 of Unholy Vows

Layla

“ A re you sure you didn’t accidentally kill him? I mean, I’m not judging, but shouldn’t he be awake by now?”

Malachai groaned as he rubbed a palm down his face.

“For the final fucking time, Layla, he hasn’t overdosed. You can check his pulse if you feel the need.”

Malachai waved his hand toward the unconscious man, and I raised my palms in surrender.

Instead, I glanced around the shipping container, taking in the chipped paint and faint musky odor.

“So, this is where the magic happens, huh?”

Malachai gave me a look that told me in no uncertain terms that he was done with my nervous chatter.

“Just trying to make conversation, geez.”

“Layla,” Malachai said as he puffed air into his cheeks. “Do you intend to make conversation all night, because I have a strict process I follow, and your constant interruptions are driving me insane, woman?”

I scanned my eyes over Malachai’s form. His hair was disheveled from running his fingers through it, and the top buttons of his dress shirt were now undone as though he had been tugging on his collar.

I opened my mouth to respond, but instead, I made a show of zipping my lips, and Malachai released a relieved breath.

The night was cold as we waited for Trey to wake up. After Malachai had kidnapped Trey from the gym, he’d brought him to the shipping yard, where the pair had remained all day as Malachai continuously topped up the sleeping agent he had used on him.

While Trey slumbered, Malachai had been busy erasing all digital evidence that either of them had been at the gym. It was fascinating watching him work, but I had long since grown bored.

“Do you think you could install heaters in here?” I mused as I rubbed my arms to chase away the chill.

“Layla,” Malachai gritted out.

A low groan echoed throughout the small space, saving me from Malachai’s ire. Trey shifted in his seat as he tried to shake off the effects of the drug. When he went to lift his hands, the cuffs fastened around his wrists prevented his movements, and he jerked upright, instantly awake.

His panicked gaze darted around the room until it fell on Malachai.

“You,” he said, sounding hoarse.

“Nice to see you again, Trey.”

Malachai’s tone was bright as he waved at the bound man.

“What the fuck am I doing here?”

Trey tugged at his restraints, but they didn’t budge.

“Let me go right now!”

“Or what?” Malachai taunted.

“This isn’t… some gay thing, is it?”

I snorted, and Trey’s eyes shifted to me. Despite his current predicament, his gaze darkened when he took me in.

“Hey,” Malachai called, snapping his fingers in front of Trey’s face. “You don’t look at her.”

A predatory smirk lifted the corner of Trey’s mouth at the realization he could use me to get to Malachai.

“Or what?”

Malachai inhaled a steadying breath and then stalked toward the table at the far end of the container. He shuffled around the contents for a time before he marched back toward Trey, a mallet in hand.

“Hey, oh shit, I meant nothing by it, man,” he said, but Malachai was beyond reasoning.

When he reached Trey, he raised the mallet above his head and brought it down on Trey’s kneecap with sickening accuracy. The sound of bone crunching mixed with Trey’s wails of agony as Malachai hit him again and again.

When he finally stopped, Trey’s knee was unrecognizable.

“Holy father in heaven,” I whispered.

Malachai’s gaze shifted to me. His chest heaved from the exertion, and the vein throbbing at his temple gave him a slightly deranged look.

“That may be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Malachai’s expression turned feral as he prowled toward me. When he reached me, he gripped the back of my neck and tugged me to him. His lips descended over mine, and I clutched the front of his shirt as I hung on for dear life.

Malachai’s tongue invaded my mouth, and he kissed me as though every sweep was a claim, every stroke a vow. There was nothing soft or tentative about it. Just an unspoken demand for my surrender.

His hands gripped my hips, pulling me closer until there wasn’t an inch left between our bodies. I could feel the tension vibrating through his frame, the tightly coiled restraint simmering beneath his skin like he was holding himself back.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, and his voice was strained.

“Where the fuck have you been all my life, Layla Monroe?”

“Waiting for you to catch me.”

Malachai let out a throaty chuckle.

“And catch you I did.”

My cheeks flamed at the reminder, but Trey’s howl of anger interrupted the moment.

“Fucking let me go!”

Malachai sighed as he pressed his forehead against mine. “I've gotta go to work, baby.”

A surprised laugh erupted from my throat, and Malachai winked. He marched back to where Trey was seated and retrieved the mallet from the ground.

“I’d be happy to free you, Trey,” Malachai lied. “If you answer a few questions for me.”

Trey eyed him suspiciously, and Malachai grinned. I wasn’t sure if he meant the gesture to offer some form of comfort, but it was sorely lacking.

“What questions?”

Malachai lowered himself to his haunches so he could look Trey in the eye.

“Tell me who The Boston Phantom is.”

Trey reared back as if he’d been struck, and he shook his head frantically.

“I have no idea who you are talking about.”

Malachai clicked his tongue.

“Now, why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you’re a fucking lunatic.” Trey’s eyes darted to me, and he added, “You and your bitch.”

“Hey! I’m not the one who hit you with a mallet.”

“You’re not exactly helping me, either,” he spat.

“From what I’ve heard, you don’t deserve my help.”

“What are you talking about? I haven’t done shit!”

Malachai slapped Trey up the side of his head.

“Don’t lie to me, Trey,” Malachai warned.

“I’m not!”

“The name Amber ring a bell?”

Trey swallowed, and his eyes widened in fear.

“My girlfriend?”

“Try again, Trey,” Malachai scoffed.

“Okay, she’s not my girlfriend… yet. But she’s totally into me. She just needs a little encouragement. She’s the shy type, you know.”

“She’s not the shy type,” Malachai corrected. “She’s the I’ve-blocked-your-number-three-times-now-but-you-still-won’t-take-a-hint type.”

Sweat beaded on Trey’s forehead as he struggled to figure out what to say next.

He seemed to come up empty as he snapped, “That bitch is lucky I even gave her the time of day. The prude wouldn’t know a good fuck if it slapped her in the face.”

“I think you’re forgetting the part where she doesn’t go out with dickfaces like you.”

Dickfaces? Dickfaces?

Out of all the insults in the English language, I came up with dickfaces?

Kill me now.

Malachai gave me an amused smirk as if he could read my thoughts

“Shut up, slut,” Trey spat.

Before he could say another word, Malachai raised the mallet and brought it down on his uninjured knee. He roared in pain, but Malachai didn’t relent until his arm was shaking and sweat coated his skin.

“The Boston Phantom is going to have a fucking field day with you two,” Trey wheezed when he finally stopped screaming.

His eyes darted to me.

“He’ll start with her first, and he’ll make you watch.”

Malachai leaned back before driving his head into Trey’s nose. Blood gushed from the site, and Trey let out a garbled moan.

But he wasn’t done.

“She’s just his type, too.”

“Don’t look at her, look at me,” Malachai growled.

“Do you know the kinds of things he does to the whores he catches?” Trey chuckled. “It’s not over quickly either. He likes to take his time, and he always keeps them alive while he does it.”

My hands trembled, and I fought to conceal my unease.

“I told you not to fucking look at her!” Malachai bellowed.

But Trey kept his eyes locked on me. He threw his head back, laughing hysterically as blood filled his mouth, coating his teeth in the copper substance.

Malachai rose from the ground and stormed toward his table, retrieving another instrument. When he returned to Trey’s side, he gripped the other man’s chin in his palm and dug a scalpel into his eye socket.

The sound of Trey’s agony filled my ears, and I clamped my hands over them to stifle the sound. After what felt like an eternity, Malachai pulled back, gripping something wet and shiny.

An eyeball.

He was holding a fucking eyeball.

“I told you not to look at her. You didn’t listen.”

Bile rose in my throat, and I placed a hand over my mouth to prevent myself from retching.

“Layla? Are you all right?”

The concern in Malachai’s voice was endearing, but I couldn’t answer him as my stomach roiled once more.

“Don’t you dare, Layla,” he warned. “Don’t you dare vomit.”

I doubled over; my hands balanced on my knees as I retched violently.

“Fecking shite.”

“W-what?” I asked as I wiped my hand over my mouth.

“I told you not to vomit!”

“Did you just say fecking shite?”

“That’s what you’re worried about? Not the DNA you just up-chucked.”

A nervous laugh bubbled up my throat before I lost myself in a fit of giggles.

“Fecking shite,” I wheezed.

“Layla!”

I put my hand up to stop Malachai’s outburst. “I’ll stop, I just need a minute,” I said between laughs.

“Fecking shite,” I repeated.

“It’s not that funny, Layla.”

“You’re right, you’re right.”

But no sooner had the words left my mouth, a fresh wave of giggles assaulted me.

“Fuck my life,” Malachai grumbled as he returned his attention to Trey. “If you want to keep the other eye, you’ll start talking.”