Chapter 38
This bastard has taken it too far. He’s using my tricks against me? My fucking tricks?
I’ll rip that smug look off his face and make him remember exactly who the fuck I am. I’ll make him choke on every fucked-up word he ever fed me, every sick little game he thought I didn’t understand.
And now the son of a bitch wants to act like I’m just another pawn on his board, following the rules?
Fine. I’ll play.
I’ll flip the whole fucking board. I’ll rip the pieces out of his hands and shove them down his goddamn throat.
He doesn’t know who he’s fucking with. I’m not some scared little kid anymore.
I’m what he made—every scar, every cracked bone, every sleepless night.
I want to see him crawl. I want him on the floor choking on his pride while I laugh in his face.
I’ll break him. I’ll ruin him. I’ll make him wish he’d fucking killed me when he had the chance.
This time, it’s my game, and I don’t play fair.
My hand shakes as I bring the cigarette to my lips for one more deep drag.
I need to calm down.
Where the fuck is he? Why is he testing my patience?
I’m not in the mood for his games. Not when every second he makes me wait feels like a goddamn slap.
I swear to God, if he walks in with that smug look, acting like this is all just some joke, I’ll lose it. I’ll fucking lose it.
Because I’m not just angry. I’m wired, ready to break something, and if his face even asks for it when he finally graces me with his presence, I’ll drive my fist through it.
I inhale my cigarette for the last time and toss it on the ground before I step on it.
And right before I call him to curse him for being late, there he finally is. He’s riding toward me on his black R1M and parks next to my bike.
He takes off his helmet and runs his fingers through his tousled hair.
I don’t say a word—I stare at him, arms crossed, clearly agitated.
“Can’t stay away, can you, brother?” He gives me a side smirk. I swear, I’ll punch the shit out of him.
“Can’t be on time to save your life, can you, brother?”
“Save my life?” He takes off his leather gloves and leaves them on the tank. “If I didn’t know you, I’d think you were threatening me.”
“It’s funny you assume I’d waste a threat on you,” I reply, rolling my eyes.
He gets off his bike and leans against it, mirroring my posture.
“Did you call me here to waste your time, then?”
Look at him. Smug as ever. Clean shaven, hair a mess like he thinks he’s some kind of edgy Ken doll.
“I’m spontaneous. Kill me for that,” I say, lighting up one more cigarette.
He takes out a pack of minty gum and pops one into his mouth. “I can think of plenty of other reasons to kill you, actually,” he says with a smirk.
I drag the smoke. “You can kill me another time.”
“So, what is it about?”
Cut to the chase.
“Remember Father?” I ask, brow raised.
He scoffs. “Father?”
“Psychotic bastard that used to torture me because I wasn’t his son?”
“Hard to forget that piece of shit.”
“The other day, you talked about him like he was dead,” I say, dragging a hand over my stubble.
He chuckles. “Yeah, I heard about the explosion. That was art. Really, hats off.”
I tilt my head. “Next time, I’ll make sure to actually kill him.”
His grin falters. “What?”
“He’s still alive, but now I’ll make sure to watch the light leave his fucking eyes.”
“… What?!”
“Alive. Breathing. Laughing his fucking ass off. Like a damn roach that won’t die. He’s pushing all the fucking right buttons. He wants to crack me open. He is a threat to Kate?ina.”
He raises his bushy brows. “I don’t understand.”
I take a drag from my cigarette. “He sent Kate?ina’s friend’s head to my door with his fucking initials carved into her skin.”
“He didn’t,” he says, as if trying to believe it.
“I am going to do exactly the same to him. I want him awake for every second, watching me ruin him limb by fucking limb for daring to mess with her.”
Now he’s quiet.
I step closer.
“So I’m asking you, brother. Are you in, or are you in my way?”
He pauses, his gaze sinking into mine.
Then he nods.
“Let’s kill this bastard for good.”
My smirk grows wider and more sinister. I flick the cigarette to the ground and crush it under my heel.
“Good. Because we’re gonna need backup.”
He raises a brow. “Meaning?”
“We’re not the only Mansons, brother.”
“You mean …?”
“Yeah. We need him, too.” I shove my hands in my pants pockets.
He scoffs. “You seriously think he’ll listen?”
“He doesn’t have to listen. He just has to remember who he is.”
“Do you need help with that?”
I shake my head slowly. “I can be very persuasive.”
“And if he says no?” he asks.
I glance over my shoulder. “Then I stop asking.”