Chapter Forty-Four
I can’t think.
I can’t fucking concentrate. On anything.
My brain is completely and utterly consumed…
By the state of this goddamn teddy bear.
It’s actually kind of hilarious and adorable. This cute, fuzzy little bear, all mangled.
A snort bursts from me, and I frown to cover it up.
“So… anything else?” Kent grumbles, and I glance up at him. I believe him to be… almost smirking. Almost. “I could try food again? Chocolates, or—”
“Mm, not sure that’s wise,” I mutter. “Remember what he did to the cupcakes? And he loves those.”
“Right.”
My eyes are back on the remains of a teddy bear I’d foolishly thought might serve as, at the very least, a weak-ass apology.
“Poor thing…” My lips twitch.
“You talking about the bear… or the kid?” Kent hums.
My gaze lifts again. His eyebrow cocks.
“Have Chrystine whip something up and bring it with his lunch,” I instruct. “That way he might not feel inclined to destroy it.”
Kent nods and stands from his chair, going to leave. But he stops. “Oh, and I’m waiting to hear back on a lead that should pan out. For the girl.”
I blink, eager for information on Avianna Alvarez, but then knowing better than to get my hopes up. We haven’t been able to locate jack shit as far as the state of Angelito’s twin sister. All we know is that we think she’s in Vegas. That’s about it.
I’d love to be able to tell him where she is. Maybe that would get him talking to me again.
Chin lifting in a subtle nod to acknowledge Kent’s words, I add on his way out, “Make it something really good. He likes lavender and vanilla together…”
“Oh, trust me, I remember the bottle of perfume he whipped at my head,” he grunts, and this time the amusement is visible.
“I told you someday your high school dodgeball skills would come in handy,” I deadpan, and he huffs.
Shaking his head, Kent leaves, and I’m alone once more. Just me, my regret, and a hacked-apart plushie.
Sighing, I rub my eyes. How did we get here?
Honestly, I have no idea what’s going on anymore, but I have to admit it’s a lot harder to hold it all together when I’m spending all day and night worrying about how angry my little bird is with me.
Sure, I knew he’d be pissed. Him hating me is a fact of life, an integral part of not only our relationship, but his existence as a whole.
Still, I went through all this trouble to get him back and keep him…
It’d be a real shame—not to mention a waste of a perfectly good prisoner—if he just never speaks to me again.
I’ve made multiple attempts at apologizing for being a narcissistic asshole by sending him gifts. But to say they haven’t been well-received would be a colossal understatement.
Just ask the custom-made lilac and gardenia infused velvet teddy bear with its poor fuzzy head hanging off.
Yes, I’m throwing money at the problem. I figured it was worth a try, since apologizing with words wasn’t going over well.
Admittedly, I’m not great at expressing remorse.
It doesn’t matter if I am actually sorry, which I think on some level I am.
Empathy isn’t one of my finer skills, and Angel Alvarez is one of the few people in this world who can read me like a children’s book.
He’s also a grade-A stubborn brat when he wants to be—a potential symptom of essentially raising himself, another thing that’s strictly my fault. Meaning he can throw a tantrum and cold-shoulder you like no one’s business.
I know what you’re thinking… Just let him out of the fucking cage, pendejo.
Well, I tried. After a full day of him refusing to even look at me when I went down there, I invited him to come up for that movie we were supposed to watch—sans cuffs this time.
He did speak to me, for the first time since I dropped him back off in the cage, though his words weren’t exactly a comfort.
“I would rather set myself on fire,” he’d said, a blank expression on that perfectly beautiful face, emeralds of furious resentment holding my gaze.
God, he’s just so sexy, even when he’s enraged and being insufferably obstinate. More so. There’s something about his overt rage that makes him a million times hotter.
So I began with the I’m sorry presents, and no, they weren’t your run-of-the-mill Valentine’s Day clearance section cheap chocolates and polyester creatures.
These gifts were well thought out, because I know what Angelito likes.
But apparently, he likes punishing me more than he likes Magnolia cupcakes and Dior.
So frustrating.
As if I don’t have enough going on as it is, now I have to worry that my pajarito is never going to let me near him again. And after we had the most incredible night of all time; an experiment in how goddamn easy it is to let him inside, in more ways than one.
Seriously, the sex was world-shattering, but our connection doesn’t stop there. It’s obvious, but that’s part of the problem.
How am I expected to win this war, regain control of my island and operate this global crime business while also sustaining some kind of relationship with the person whose life’s mission is to kill me?
How can I make my little bird happy when I have to keep him locked in a cage?
This level of distraction is dangerous. And this lack of control is making me itch. I can feel the fury spreading within me like decay.
I need to relieve some of this angst. And since I won’t be getting any stress relief from my pajarito any time soon, maybe it’s time I paid a visit to my other prisoner.
Jumping up, I’m on an immediate mission, stalking downstairs to the first-floor, and then down again, into the dungeon.
The tombs, as we call my basement, is designed like a root cellar of sorts, though the storage of food and supplies is only one small area.
The rest is for a different kind of storage… reminiscent of Alabaster Penitentiary.
Coming around the corner, I spot the form slumped over and chained to the wall. An immense sense of satisfaction washes over me as I crack my knuckles, striding up to him.
My former employee startles awake when he hears me, peeking up with fear bugging his swollen eyes. His face is a smattering of black and blue, crusted blood and snot. He looks like shit. Terrified shit, at that.
It pleases me oh so much.
“Hi, Nestor,” I sing pleasantly, towering over him while he trembles, my lips forming a faux-pout. “How are you feeling?”
“P-please…” he croaks, shaking violently, flinching when I crouch down to put us face to face. “Sir, please… I’m s—”
“Sorry?” I finish his sentiment. The same one he’s been expressing since I lured him down here the other day and smashed him in the face with a brick. “I’m sure you are…”
“But I didn’t know…” He cries, trying to scoot away, though he’s backed up against the wall. “I swear to God, I didn’t know who she was! She was just some girl—”
I grab him quick by the face, and he whines. “Cuidadoso, amigo. Tread extremely lightly with what you’re about to say.”
“It w-was an accident,” he sobs. “She came onto me, I swear…”
Dropping my chin, my eyes fall shut. “Oh, wow…”
I suck in a deep breath and stand, launching a swift kick to his face.
A snarl erupts from my chest, echoing as I kick him and kick him, dropping to my knees to beat the absolute ever-loving fuck out of this stupid fucking puta, for having the nerve to tell me my pajarito seduced him.
I don’t give a fuck if it’s probably true. I’m sure Arianna had an agenda, and knew fucking a member of my personal security would get her more access to the mansion, or the prison. The point is, I don’t care what the reasons are, and I sure as shit don’t fucking care whose fault it was.
I’m going to beat him to death for the mere fact that he touched what’s mine. Whether he knew it or not is irrelevant. I simply cannot let this go.
I can’t have people sharing my air, let alone working for me, who have engaged with my Angel, meaning I won’t stop until every last tiny prick on this island who screwed Ari the mystery girl is decapitated by my hands.
“Fuck you,” I growl, breathless and dripping with blood. “Fuck you fuck you fuck you!”
My fists are somehow numb and throbbing at the same time, the sounds of crunching and wet mashing beneath my rage fading off into a ringing in my ears.
I can’t hear it, but I can still see it…
The video footage I saw, of Arianna, fucking and sucking. Being spread around like a common whore; like a slutty little bird, when in truth, she belongs explicitly to me.
When I discovered that the intruder was Angel, I found recorded evidence of what he’d been doing as Arianna. He wasn’t just seeking me out to kill me. No, his vengeance was much more devious.
He had to know I’d find out about this. He had to know what I would do…
Soto.
Reyes.
Linetti.
And Nestor.
These are the men I know for certain stuck their dicks in a body that is mine, and it doesn’t matter what they knew. They will all be dead. That’s the way it goes.
Blood for blood.
Or in this case blood for cum.
Just a quick nut to bust in a random girl…?
Right. If only.
We’ve already taken out Soto and Reyes. Casualties of the battle, and all. Though my men were instructed to leave them alive, so that I could exact my revenge. Which I did, with Angel’s family heirloom, the butterfly knife. I gutted them both, then we threw them into the ocean to feed the sharks.
Unfortunately, that prick Linetti has been harder to get. He’s working lookout for Velle’s battalion, meaning he hasn’t been on the ground with the rest of them and my snipers haven’t been able to pin him down. Slippery fuck.
But I’ll get him. Mark my fucking words.
Nestor here is taking the brunt, being that he was my personal security. He was much closer to me than the guards, as someone who’s worked with me since almost the start.
It fills me with such wrath, I have to stop and gulp for air.
“Fucking puta sucia,” I spit on him, sitting back with a breath.