Chapter 32
I’ve been wanting to put a bullet between Paul’s eyes for so long now, but I’ve never found the chance to do so.
I always try to be strategic and rational when it comes to business, so I sat back and waited for him to make a mistake and provoke me. Again.
Only this time, I won’t be as gentle with him.
I step out of the car, heading to the filthy, abandoned warehouse he picked for this mess. It reeks of piss, rust, and salt. My men fall in behind me, their guns in their hands, ready for whatever’s coming.
He thinks I don’t know it’s a trap. He thinks I will actually give him what he wants. Obviously, he also thinks I was born yesterday. Not only am I selfish and don’t share anything that belongs to me, but I’m also weary of these fuckers thinking they’re better than me—sneakier. Darker.
I walk towards the big, steel door, my men following like soldiers going to war.
Paul is already there, waiting. His men encircle him, protecting him. They don’t look dangerous. Mine do. Mine look like they’re ready to tear someone apart.
“Cain,” he chirps, a fake smile curling up his lips. “You came!”
“You asked,” I growl, taking out a smoke, lighting it up and inhaling it. “Let’s get to the part where you tell me what you want.”
He spreads his hands. “Protection. My routes are bleeding. Two ships hit last month. Ports are heating up, and my crew can’t move a crate without someone breathing down their necks.”
I stare at him. “And you thought of me as your solution?”
“Bygones be bygones, pal. We both win if I run under your flag. I give you a cut—fifteen percent—and you keep my routes clean. You’ve got reach; I don’t. We could make something big.”
I chuckle slowly, shaking my head. One last pull and I toss the smoke on the ground. Shit’s getting serious.
I stroll closer to him, my eyes never drifting away from his. His men are ready, their fingers on the triggers. But so are mine. I turn my head to the side to signal my men and stop them before they do something stupid.
It’s not time yet.
My gaze returns to him. “And what do you give me, besides a headache?”
He tries to smile, but he doesn’t succeed. He’s shitting his pants. “Access. Loyalty.”
Bullshit.
I tilt my head. “Interesting offer. Shame you’ve got neither.”
He chuckles—forced again. “Come on, Cain. We could own the coast. Imagine what we could build together.”
“I don’t build with cowards.”
His jaw tightens, as if he’s trying to choke back his anger and disappointment. He didn’t expect me to play hard to get, and that makes him pathetic and stupid. And everyone knows I’m not known for my appreciation of idiots.
“Tell me something,” I say, taking another step closer. “When you practiced this little speech in front of the mirror this morning, did it sound more convincing?”
Paul’s smile fades.
“You’re arrogant, Cain. You think just because you’ve built yourself a throne, no one can reach you.”
“No. I just know how to recognize a rat who’s still chewing through the ground.”
His eyes flit up one more time, and I follow them briefly. There’s some movement.
I grin. “If this is your big betrayal, you should’ve hired better men.”
And then everything explodes, causing him to bend over, startling him and our men to run around like insects. Useless piece of shit.
He screams orders to his men.
One of his men attacks me from behind, but I turn fast and slam him against a container. My elbow meets his throat, my knife his guts.
The warehouse is a war zone. Gunfire. Screams.
I let his corpse fall to the ground and prowl towards Paul.
“Cain, wait, I can explain,” he mutters, stumbling back.
“I don’t want you to explain. I want you to die,” I growl, raising my gun.
I put a bullet in his heart, then another in his head. He drops to the ground, dead before he even hits it.
Then everything stills, like the whole world stops breathing.
A small red dot quivers on my chest.
I go still, my breath turning slow, and I don’t move a muscle. Carefully, I glance down at it.
Fuck … this is it—my end.
I raise my head back up, bringing her face into my thoughts, and breathe out her name. “Kate?ina.”
My eyes close slightly, as if they’re heavy. As if opening them would take more strength than I have left.
Then, two hands grab my leather jacket’s collar, dragging me forward and shoving me hard behind a container. My back hits the metal, eliciting a grunt from me.
“You?” I breathe.
“You’ve already given up?” His brown eyes squint.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Saving my big brother’s ass.”