Chapter 9
S ince I read Cora’s text, I’ve been fighting the urge to break shit, preferably the face of the scumbag who had the audacity to take such intimate pictures of her. I storm into Jonathon’s office, cutting off his call with a glare. His reprimanding look doesn’t faze me. If he wants to continue playing businessman as if his daughter hasn’t just been violated, then that’s his choice. But it sure as hell isn’t mine. I’m shutting this shit down now, before things go south.
“I want extra surveillance on the penthouse. Restricted access. Only my inner circle unless I specify otherwise. Clear out her apartment. Put bulky things in storage. I won’t let anyone defile her space now that they’re cut off,” he snarls down the phone.
Ignoring his stern gaze, I speak. “Whatever the plan is to protect her, I want in. Put me on her security detail, let me train her in self-defence, anything.”
As he contemplates what I’ve just said, assessing me as something more than his pseudo-nephew, he nods and says, “She’s off-limits to everyone, Owen. That includes you. I can see where you’re going with this. Just know that if you do, there will be consequences.” When I don’t confirm or deny what he’s alluding to, he continues, “You’re the best person to train her. So do it. But if you make a move on her, my relationship with you or your father won’t save you, son.”
If he believes his threats will stop me, I’ll let him think just that. For now, at least. Because there’s no way in hell that things won’t be changing soon.
If I had any doubts about that, the way she eyed me up like I was a glass of water and she was stranded in the Sahara wiped them away. It was all I could do to stop myself from claiming her mouth right then and there.
* * *
“Dude, who pissed in your Cheerios?” Matt wheezes as I sucker punch him for the fifth time. I’d dragged his hungover ass out of bed under the pretence of sparring with me, but instead, I’ve been using him as my personal boxing bag for the last twenty minutes.
“He’s just got his panties in a twist that someone saw his girl’s panties before him.” Cole’s deep voice interrupts my thoughts. Before he can react, I deliver a swift uppercut, causing him to stumble back.
“You’d be wise to watch your mouth,” I snap as I peel off my boxing gloves and wraps.
“Fuck, man. I owe Liam fifty quid now,” he grumbles, rubbing at the sore spot on his jaw, while Matt laughs before asking, “What was the bet this time?”
“How many remarks it would take before Owen snapped,” Cole smirks. “I thought I would get at least three in, Aidan thought you’d cut me off during the first one, but Liam guessed Owen would let me dig my own grave before throwing a punch.”
“And you’re here for?”
“Liam’s been going through the apartment records. Turns out the apartment across the hall from her has a new tenant, which means…” he trails off with raised eyebrows.
“That’s likely our guy. I take you’ve got him locked down somewhere?”
“Chained up already. You want in on this?” Giving him the look that stupid remark deserves, I jerk my head at Matt to follow me.
It’s about time we beat some justice into someone.
* * *
Driving to the Four Points’ underground chamber, affectionately known as The Pit, takes half an hour, battling London’s relentless traffic. The whole time I can’t stop my knee bouncing or cracking my knuckles thanks to the anticipation buzzing underneath my skin. If they notice anything is up, they don’t let on, and for that, I’m thankful.
From the outside, The Pit looks like a derelict, graffiti- covered, crumbling building set in a wasteland. Inside, it’s an incredibly high-tech torture chamber with all the frills.
From the meat hooks in the ceiling to a branding iron by the fire, and a pit dug to bury someone alive, this place is a sadist’s version of heaven.
Currently, the man who snapped photos of Cora dangles from those hooks. Liam and Aidan are perched on crates, the former twirling his favourite knife around. The slam of the door causes them to look up and the captive to flinch.
“About time you got here. Liam was ready to sink his knife in this asshole.” I knew there was a reason Liam was my favourite. Tossing my hoodie at Matt and prowling forward, I eye the man in front of me. He’s an ordinary guy, a ginger-haired, geeky-looking kid with glasses to complete the image. And that’s exactly what it is: an image.
Because the longer I stare at him in silence the more he fidgets, breaking character piece by piece until they’re lying on the floor between us in a shattered mess. He stands taller and drops the meek act with a cold look in his brown eyes.
“What do you wanna bet he’s not even a real ginger?” I toss over my shoulder as I wander over to the pile of tools sitting on a table to the side.
“The only real ginger in this room is Matt. The same way those glasses aren’t even prescription.” Never let it be said that bleach has killed any of Cole’s brain cells .
Ignoring the light-hearted bickering that breaks out behind me, I take in my options before grabbing a set of pliers. After all, why should he get to keep the fingers that he used to take Cora’s picture? Or his eyes after seeing what wasn’t his to see.
Relishing in his screams and the crunch noise that followed after every snap of the pliers, it wasn’t long before the smell of piss joined the bitter tang of blood in the air.
“Fucking pussy,” I growl to mutters of agreement behind me. “What gives you the right to be perving on my girl, huh?” When he whimpers, I purposely fuck up his next amputation, resulting in his finger only being half severed.
“I asked you a question, fuckface, you’d do well to answer before I start cutting off other body parts.”
“If that’s not enough of a motivator, then maybe this will be,” Liam chimes in, beginning to carve into the captive’s back.
Eventually, after more screams and loss of fingers, he begged, “Listen, man…I didn’t have any choice! I needed to climb the ladder. The photos didn’t go anywhere, so no harm, no foul, right?”
His ramblings only made things worse for him.