Chapter 60
BELLA
He trembles before my hand touches him. Monsters only learn to hunt. They never learn how to bleed. They don’t understand that one day, we all have to pay for our sins.
My heels click against concrete as I circle him. “Have you ever seen what happens to a man when a woman stops being afraid of him?” I ask, stopping in front of him.
No answer. Just a ragged exhale through busted lips. Of course he hasn’t. Until now, he thinks he has all the power. That because he’s a man, he can abuse whoever he wants.
“Alright.”
I press the barrel of the gun to his thigh. “Let me show you.”
He flinches, and I smile. This is soothing for me.
“Bella,” Reggie growls behind me.
“You going to stop me? Look away if you don’t like it.” I shoot back, eyes fixed on him.
Then I pull the trigger.
His pathetic scream rips the air open. It’s beautiful in its own ugly way. Rowan curses, rubbing his jaw like he’s deciding if he’s pleased or sickened. I dip close to The Crow’s ear, the smell of grease and fear.
“Now, tell me who recruits the girls.”
He chokes. “A woman—she… she calls herself Madame Eve. She’s the one who collects them.”
“Now that’s helpful.”
I tap his cheek hard, then wipe a speck of his blood from my face with the back of my hand like it’s mascara gone wrong. Reggie is watching every inch of that motion. He’s always the man wrestling his instincts.
“And where do I find this bitch?” I ask.
He spits at my boots. The wrong answer.
My hand connects with his cheek, my palm stings and I shake it out with a hiss.
“Bella—” Reggie’s voice is a warning.
“You said alive until he talks. You didn’t say anything about comfortable.” I glance back.
Rowan snorts. “Fair point.”
He steps in, fingers like hooks in the man’s hair, tilting his head so he can’t look away from me.
“Be smart, mate,” Rowan murmurs. “You really don’t want to see what she’ll do next.”
“I already know what I’m doing next,” I say, coldly.
I press the gun to the other thigh. His eyes are wide, lips trembling. He knows I’ll go again. My heart doesn’t stutter. It hammers.
I tilt my head. “And where do I find her? Please don’t make me repeat myself again. Otherwise I’ll have to get these two involved more. And you really, really don’t need that. We can keep it just between us two.”
He chokes on a moan. “She finds you. You don’t go to her.”
I tap the gun on his skull. “Then she’ll find me.”
Reggie leans in so close his breath ghosts my face. “No, she fuckin’ won’t,” he whispers.
“Stop getting in the way of my flow, Irish.” I shrug him off with a sentence, but when he leans in to steal my breath, I see only him. The room shrinks to the space between his eyes and mine.
I can tell he’s secretly enjoying watching me work, I can see that flicker behind his eyes.
“You think this turns me on?” he growls.
“Yes,” I whisper, not breaking the line of sight.
Rowan clears his throat. I ask him, “rockstar, have you got a knife?”
Rowan nods, but his stare pins me and feeds my adrenaline.
“For you, anything.” He winks, flipping a knife into his palm like it’s commonplace.
“I don’t have time for her to find me. How about you tell me how to contact her? That way I won’t find your wife after this and do this whole thing again.”
I say it as a guess, and with the way he pales, I’d say I’m spot on.
The Crow shakes his head like a dog. Tears and snot running down his face. “I’m not telling you anything else. Just let me go. I’ve got kids. A family. I promise, I’ll stop working with them.”
I laugh, and it sounds more like a cackle.
“And the women you traffic, don’t give a fuck about them or their family? Do you? If you want any chance of walking out of here, you tell me how I find her.”
He won’t look. He looks away. My patience is a wire taut and snapping.
“Fucking look at me, you sick piece of shit!” I shout and drive the blade through his good thigh.
He howls, so I twist and leave the metal lodged, bringing my face level with his. Close enough to see the tiny betrayal he thinks he will live with.
“I can keep going all day, asshole. Finding new ways to make you cry. It’s satisfying. I bet your wife will cry harder,” I whisper.
He surrenders words. “Block Central club. You go there and you ask to see The Madame. You’ll have to pretend to be looking for a job. That’s how she gets them.”
Reggie’s face, when I look up, is stone. He knows my brain already; he sees my plan threading itself through the blood. He’s not a fan, and his jaw shows it.
“Any more questions for him?” I ask Reggie.
He throws himself upward off the wall, grips The Crow by the neck and the remains of the chair, hauling him like a rag. “How do we find The Preacher?” he asks, voice flat.
“I-I don’t know. No one knows. I’m too far down the chain,” the man splutters.
Reggie drops him and kicks the chair; the impact snaps the room. His head bounces on concrete. Reggie’s boot plates the man’s throat until he claws at air.
“Which one of you is doing the honors?” Reggie glances between me and Rowan.
“Rockstar can. I’ve had my fun,” I say, winking at Rowan.
“Thank you, baby.”
Rowan stalks forward slowly. He lifts his foot and crashes it down onto The Crow’s skull. He keeps going until he’s satisfied. Completely void of emotions. When he’s finished, he looks at me like it was theater and the curtain just dropped.
“Now I need some new fuckin’ boots,” he grumbles.
Reggie laughs, a short bark that bounces off the concrete. Blood maps his steps as he moves toward us. Rowan’s grin is dangerous as he wipes his hands, stopping right in front of me.
“You did good, precious. I love that side of you,” he growls, scooping me up over his shoulder like I’m nothing and everything.
“Rowan!” I shout, slapping at his back in mock outrage. I look over my shoulder and see Reggie close behind.
“Reggie! Tell him to stop!”
He shakes his head, trying to hide his desire, but I see it. As Rowan slows to a run for the door, Reggie catches up to us.
“Nope. You’ve been a bad, bad girl,” Reggie mutters, his palm ghosting along my cheek. My breath stutters, and the air between us sparks.
We run into night like three halves of the same sin. Which, maybe we just are.