7. Magnus
I look up in surprise as a man I thought was dealt with stands, wavering on the threshold. Judging from the bags under his eyes, he’s obviously been questioning his life choices, perhaps even regretting them entirely.
“Why is he here?” I ask.
The guard beside him nudges him in the back and he flounders forward. “I, I got a message.” he says in that weak, pathetic voice.
My eyebrow raises, I get up slowly from my desk, wondering if this isn’t some sort of trick.
When I extend my hand, he places the phone in it with a more than obvious shake.
I click the standby button, then flash it in his face. “It’s locked,” I comment, “what’s the passcode?”
“07, 05, 1952,” he states stupidly before adding, “my mother’s birthday.”
How very touching. I make a mental note of that code as I tap it in, ensuring I commit it to memory. The screen comes to life, all those messages spill forth like dirty little secrets. It’s all there, her desperate words all typed out.
It’s a delicious insight in her mind. I can practically taste the panic in her words. Poor darling is so confused as to why her posts won’t go live.
Did she really think we wouldn’t be on top of that?
Did she really believe that was some sort of ‘get out of jail free’ card?
I let out a low, satisfied sigh. It’s all here. All his sweet little comments back, his words of reassurance, telling her that it’ll be okay. That he’s going to help her. I guess in a way he has, he’s helped lead her right to me.
I tap out a message, using the same lingo he does, keeping it short, brief. Giving her instructions to be at a certain service station later that day. In her mind, Saul will be travelling from London anyway, so that explains the delay.
Once the message is delivered, she types back immediately, stating she’ll be there. That she’s so thankful. My lips curl at that. Oh, she will be thankful. By the time I’m finished this bitch will be thanking me for every second of life that I grant her.
“Well?” Saul asks, cutting through the mental image already seeping into my brain.
“Well, what?” I reply.
“Is she…” He glances to my brother then back at me. “Is she agreeing to meet?”
“Yes,” I state, before pocketing the phone and turning away. We may have a few hours, but I want this all executed perfectly. I want her tied up and gift-wrapped, and more importantly, I want everyone who attends her deliverance to already know what the deal is. I want them more than aware that this bitch is mine.
My property. My plaything.
And I want Anthony to witness it, to look in his eyes as he sees the physical manifestation of his loss and my victory all there, in blazing colour.
Saul’s hand grabs my arm, jerking me back.
I raise an eyebrow at the level of insolence. He really thinks he’s in a position to even touch me?
“I, I promised she wouldn’t be hurt.” he says, wrangling his hands together.
“Right.” Like he was ever in a position to make such a comment.
“I…” He glances to my brother then back to me. “Look, if you agreed I could take her, keep her quiet.”
“Excuse me?” I retort.
He shrinks at the tone but the stupid, snivelling fuck continues as if he thinks he has some leverage here, “I have a place, with a basement, look, I could keep her there, no one would know. She’d be secure. And I’d never let anyone see her, meet with her, I’d keep her isolated…”
My, my, how this woman seems to lure men in. I take a step back, assessing him and all the things he’s not saying.
“You’re in love with her.” I state.
He gulps, “I am. Was. I…”
“I see.” I cut across whatever bullshit he’s about to say, only, he continues anyway,
“I, look… I know she has to pay. I understand that. But I can ensure she pays, I can ensure that whatever the cost is…”
“You don’t have anywhere near the money needed to make such statements.” Conrad taunts.
“You just need her dead.” He snaps back as though he’s suddenly realising exactly what he’s done. As though he’s Judas, stood here, with those thirty pieces of silver in his hand, seeing everything that’s precious to him being nailed up on that cross. “I can do that. As far as the world will know, she is dead.”
“Why did you do it?” I ask curiously. “If you care for this bitch so much, why did you come to us?”
He shrugs. It’s a pathetic gesture, one that sums up everything he is. Every cowardly cell of his body. “I, I didn’t have a choice. The Brethren are too powerful to go against…” he begins. “But she deserved it. At least, she deserved to be brought down a peg or two. I offered her everything, gave her everything and she spat it back in my face.”
“I see.” I murmur. So that’s what this is, a lover’s revenge. She rejected him and he found a way to make her suffer. I can’t say I’ve not felt that very same need before. No, I understand the want to hurt, the drive behind it. And I’ve got enough enemies of my own to know how good the taste of revenge is when you finally achieve it.
It’s the next words that seal his fate. Not that he was ever getting out of this alive but still. He doesn’t speak them to me, he says them to my brother as if Conrad would ever lower himself to such a request.
“I want my reward. I deserve a reward.” Saul hisses. “I gave you the woman I loved on a silver platter. I’ve offered her up as a sacrifice for you people. I want something in return. I damn well deserve it.”
Conrad looks at me and I can see he’s itching to smash this man’s face in.
“A reward?” I repeat.
“I deserve recognition. I deserve money too. I’ve helped you people. You owe me.”
“Oh, we owe you alright.” I murmur, before clicking my fingers. “And Liliana owes you, too.” I add with a smile. “I wonder how prettily she’ll show her thanks once I’m done with her. Do you think she’ll forgive you for what you’ve done, or do you think she’ll plead with me to put a bullet in your head?”
His eyes widen just as two of my men grab hold of him.
“No.” He gasps.
I jerk my head for them to get him the fuck out of here. Just the sound of his voice is grating.
“No, please,” he begs, “I helped you, I helped you.”
“Put a gag on him.” Conrad orders. Apparently, he’s sick of his shit, too.
Once the snivelling waste of space is gone, I turn to Conrad and explain how this has to go down. I can’t be there at the snatch. I have to be with the other Lords. I have to make sure Anthony doesn’t pull any last-minute tricks.
It’ll be up to Conrad to get our precious cargo to the deliverance ceremony and in truth, it’s a responsibility he should be more than capable of taking on. He can have as many men as he wants, he can swarm the service station if that’s what he thinks is needed.
However he wants to play it, I don’t care. I just want that bitch, on her knees, at my feet before the day ends.