Page 30

AVERY

T he room reeks of sweat and blood. The kind of scent that clings to the walls, seeps into clothes, and settles deep in the bones of whatever lingers too long.

A man sits slumped over in a small wooden chair in the center of the room. His head hangs low and blood drips from his split lip and onto the concrete floor. His breathing is shallow, labored, and I can tell he’s trying to gauge how much fight he has left.

Not much, I’d wager.

I lean against the wall, arms crossed, watching him like a hawk sizing up prey.

My men, the only four I trust right now, flank the room. They’re silent and motionless, their presence a quiet but deadly reminder of where this pathetic excuse for a man stands in the hierarchy. Or rather, where he sits.

Actually, I don’t want to be anywhere in the hierarchy line. That’s why I stepped away months ago, but Eugene’s unraveling doesn’t give me much of a choice, which I’m pretty pissed about, so this should be fun. “You’re going to tell me everything.”

There’s no room for negotiation in my tone. This isn’t a conversation. Eugene’s been amusing enough, a curious little game to watch unfold, but lines have been crossed.

He crossed the last line the moment he toyed with Zoey’s life. Now this sniveling, gutless coward in front of me is about to pay the price.

I push off the wall and take a slow, deliberate step forward. “What exactly has Eugene been ordering you to do with Zoey?”

Barnes lifts his head. One eye is swollen shut courtesy of my right fist, but the other glares at me with all the pathetic and meek defiance he can muster.

His blood-stained teeth flash in a sneer. “Why do you care? She’s not yours. She’s nothing to you.”

The corner of my mouth twitches upward, but it’s not a smile.

Oh, I care, but I’m not about to give him that satisfaction. Hell, I can barely even admit it to myself, let alone out loud. “You want to talk about caring? I suggest you start caring about what happens to you if you don’t answer the question.”

He still doesn’t answer. What a stubborn little bitch.

I crouch in front of him so my face is level with his, so close that he can see exactly how much control I’m exercising not to rip his spine out through his mouth. I tilt my head and drop my voice to something colder. “What. Has. Eugene. Been. Ordering. You. To. Do?”

Barnes spits blood onto the floor at my feet. I let that slide for now. “Break her.”

“Break her?” I repeat.

The sad excuse for a man flinches but keeps talking.

“He wants her broken. Says we’re supposed to do whatever it takes to make her agree to be his, to make her believe she’s not safe anywhere that isn’t by his side.

Bring her close to death if we have to, but not too far. Enough to scare her into giving in. ”

I stare at him for a long moment. His words hang in the air like a toxic cloud while I fight the urge to rip off his dick with my bare hands.

A slow, suffocating pressure builds within my chest. It’s not rage, but something worse.

Something colder. Because I don’t get mad. I get even. “And the insulin?”

The silence stretches. He tries to shift in his chair, his wrists straining against the ropes.

Sweat beads on his forehead, and the burn marks around his arm from the ropes are already red and raw.

“We were told to use it against her,” he admits.

“Hold it back, but not let her die. Keep her desperate.”

The confession is enough to end him now. To make his death slow and agonizing. First, there’s still more I need to know.

I stand and circle around him with leisure. “What about the others? How many of you are following these orders?”

Barnes hesitates. His one good eye darts to the other men in the room, but they won’t save him. They serve me. Not Eugene. Not anyone else.

Truth is, I don’t want this position. I never have.

That’s why I loosened Eugene’s reins and let him take over things I had no interest in.

It was given to me by another, so why not give it to someone else for a little while?

Sharing is caring and all that. I’ve been content enough to ignore everyone and everything and only do what I want, anyway.

That was my mistake. I never wanted that power. The responsibility. Not until now.

Barnes’ gaze lingers on Jace, but Jace only glares back. No one in this room is going to help him now.

His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows hard.

He knows there’s no answer that will save him, but fear makes him speak, anyway.

Fear can be a beautiful thing like that, and I’m proud to still have the ability to make even the strongest men tremble in front of me.

“Most of us. He’s promised us power and riches.

Said some of his men have gone soft and not to trust them.

That he’ll deal with them when it’s time. ”

I stop pacing and turn to stand in front of him and face him head on. “Soft?”

He swallows again. His breathing quickens. “People listen to him. He’s got them convinced.”

I take one step closer so I’m looming over him. “What about you? Were you convinced?”

His shoulders tense. He knows the only answer that might buy him a few more seconds of life. “I didn’t have a choice. He’s got everyone wrapped around his fingers. What was I supposed to do?”

I nod, as though I’m considering his words, when really I’m considering how painful to make his death.

Then I pull the knife from my belt and flip it around before pressing the tip to his throat.

His eyes widen and panic flashes across his face.

Such delicious panic. “You could have stayed loyal. You could have remembered who really runs this place and the standards I hold. Instead of coming to me and warning me, you chose betrayal.”

Sweat drips down his temple. He opens his mouth to protest, but the blade moves faster. All it takes is a quick, clean slice, and he slumps forward, lifeless. The wet splatter of blood hits the plastic-covered floor. It spreads in dark, uneven streaks beneath the chair.

I wipe the blade clean, then hand it off to Jace without a word. He takes it in silence and nods once before cutting Barnes’ body free and signaling to another to help drag the body out of the room. They know what to do.

The door clicks shut behind them, leaving me alone in the heavy silence. My hands grip the back of the chair until my knuckles turn white and my mind races.

Eugene’s influence runs deeper than I thought. He’s poisoned my men and turned them against me with fake promises of power. Lies that many of these men are too stupid to realize he’ll never grant.

By ignoring my responsibilities, I let him have too much freedom. Too much control.

That ends now.

I push off the chair and straighten my spine before smoothing the wrinkles from my sleeves. If Eugene wants a power struggle…

Then I’ll give him a fucking war.