EIGHT
I ’m not a saint.
I’ve never claimed to be one, either. In my twenty-three years of life, I’ve done many terrible things. I’ve taken countless lives, tried nearly every drug on the market, and had one night stands with people I’ve met for the first time in clubs. I’ve rebelled, and I’ve messed with people’s heads for fun. I’ve blown up the Irish Embassy because one Irish man pissed the hell out of me.
I’ve come to the conclusion that this is my punishment.
It could’ve been anything else but this. Burned at the stake? I’ll gladly light the fire myself. Sent to life in prison? Give me the orange jumpsuit, and I’ll rock it.
Why the fuck did my punishment come in the form of Hudson De Santis?
More importantly, why is he still holding my hand?
He threw the blade far from my reach a while ago. Yet he isn’t moving. He’s keeping me caged between the table and his body with little to no distance between us. If I listen closely; I might be able to hear my heartbeat.
Not his.
That bastard has no heart.
Hudson’s hand is hot, burning my skin. The contrast between the warmth of our flesh sends a wave of chills down my spine, and my throat tightens. I’m barely surviving under his predatory gaze.
He’s staring at me intensely. His hot breath tickles my nose, and he tilts his head to the side. Hudson is studying me, trying to probe deep inside of my soul. Doesn't he know that mine was sealed away a long time ago?
There is no redemption for me.
There is not even a chance of making things right in this world. Not after everything I’ve done in the past.
And I don’t want that.
So why is he looking at me like that? He’s staring as if I’m the purest soul he’s ever seen, desperately wanting to corrupt it and turn it pitch black until it mirrors his.
“Would you mind letting go of me?”
My voice is loud, but it cracks. It causes Hudson to raise his eyebrow in amusement, but his eyes darken a shade. It’s not a pleasant sight; I’ve seen those eyes before. Eyes of a monster ready to ruin his prey.
“I would mind,” he whispers, voice husky.
Danger quickly appears on his face, and I try yanking my hand back, but it’s futile. When it comes to core strength, I’m no match for him, and that makes my blood boil.
“Let go,” I warn, narrowing my eyes at him. “Or I will kill you now.”
“And pray tell, how will you do that?”
“I can be creative when my hand is forced, little De Santis. Now let go.”
I don’t expect him to listen, but he does.
Hudson takes a step back, and I can breathe freely again. Air fills my lungs, and it’s as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I crack my back and walk past him, grabbing one of the knives from the pile just in case.
He’s not leaving yet and no matter how much I want him gone, I’m also a curious creature. I want to know what the fuck he’s after and why he broke into my home.
“So, are you going to tell me what brings you here or should I force it out of you?” I ask while pouring myself a glass of wine.
“I’m curious to find out what method you’d use, but I’m more curious about what’s in that little room on the second floor. It’s locked.”
I freeze.
It’s my… information room.
At the moment, it’s filled with Hudson’s information. It’s spread across the walls, the monitors are filled with every single piece of CCTV footage of him I could find for research purposes, and, more recently, all of his sex partners, since the bastard was never in an actual relationship.
I need to know his weakness and use it against him.
But I can’t tell him that. The room isn’t only locked; it’s password-protected with a little explosive that is set to go off if anyone breaks in. The damage would be done on the person and the room, not the entire building.
“That’s irrelevant,” I drawl out, meeting his eyes. “It’s late. Stop wasting my time and tell me what the fuck you want from me.”
Hudson sighs.
His mask is slowly falling, despite his best efforts to keep it glued to his face. The annoyance, the hatred, and the need to see me bleed slowly start to resurface. The rougher my words, the closer I am to unveiling his mask.
“I’m assuming you haven’t talked to your father yet about what happened tonight.”
He’s right.
The attackers killed our drivers, too. Father drove me straight to Cecilia’s place, and although he did try to speak to me, I couldn’t listen to him. The plan was to visit him as soon as the sun rose; since I haven’t slept, it will have to wait.
“Not yet, no. Why?”
Hudson’s jaw clenches, and he nods. For the first time, that goddamn anger isn’t directed toward me, and I’m relieved.
“The attackers all shared one similarity – they’ve been previously in prison. Some had minor offenses, whereas others just got out on parole. Murderers. And in the past month, they’ve all received suspicious calls from the same number.”
I snort. “Let me guess, the number couldn’t be tracked?”
“Correct.”
“Still doesn’t explain why you’re here, though.”
“I was getting to that.” Hudson grins. “Ray and Henrick agreed that it would be best if the two of us handled this together.”
“For fuck’s sake.” I slam the glass on the counter too harshly. The glass shatters, and pieces of it remain in my hand. I don’t realize I’ve squeezed it until I feel a prickling sensation on my palm and then I release it.
“You don’t seem too happy about it.” He grins like an idiot. He’s enjoying torturing me like this. At this point, I wish he’d just kill me and get it over with so I wouldn’t have to suffer.
Hudson De Santis is a menace to society.
“No, no.” Sarcasm drips from my tongue. “I’m overjoyed. The next person on my hit list is the same person I’m supposed to be working with.”
“You have a hit list?” He blinks in disbelief.
“Of course. Don’t you?”
“No!” Disbelief is written on his face, to which I just shrug my shoulders and start playing with the glass pieces to keep my hands busy. It’s my fault for not listening to my father during the car ride, but how could he do something like this without getting my input first?
“Listen, little De Santis–”
“I told you to fucking drop the nickname,” he threatens.
“Interrupt me again, and I will give your face a pretty scar.”
“You think my face is pretty? How flattering.”
Why the fuck is he grinning like an idiot?
Everything about this man is irritating. His face, his attitude and the way he walks and talks. There isn’t a single likable thing about him. Why is he smiling like a moron?
“Anyway,” I drawl out. “Ray and Henrick said we should take care of this, right? So how about you do that and let me live in peace?”
“And why would I do that?” He takes a step backward. “Seeing you angry is quite amusing. It’s almost too easy to get under your skin, and I can’t say I’m not enjoying myself.”
I ignore his words completely.
“Aside from the phone number, is there anything else to go on?”
“Four of them were seen at the same bar a week apart. It’s a long shot but worth checking out.”
I blink. “So why are you here wasting my time instead of checking it out?”
“You didn’t think I’d be doing all the work, did you?”
I lift a shoulder. “I’m already my father’s heir, while you still need to prove yourself to yours. This is an opportunity for you, little De Santis.”
Hudson takes in a sharp intake of breath, closing his eyes. The moment his eyes flutter open, I’m met with a different person. The amused Hudson is gone, replaced by the man with the deadliest eyes I’ve ever seen.
His plump lips are thinned into a line, and his jaw is clenched. His eyes flicker to the glass in my hands before he returns his gaze to my face. It’s inexplicable, but, right now, Hudson is far more dangerous than he’s ever been.
The atmosphere around us shifts, and the thick air makes it hard for me to breathe. My stare is glued to his face, pulling me in like a magnet. My body starts trembling, and I can’t understand why.
It’s fear mixed with an emotion I’ve never felt before.
“I’ve been too patient with you.” Hudson takes one step forward, closing the distance between us. There is still the kitchen table separating us, and I find myself wishing it was more than that.
“You killed my brother,” he spits out, voice dangerously low. “I want nothing more but to snap your pretty little neck as we speak. But I can’t do that; because as much as I fucking hate everything about you, I need you.”
“You’re just deluding yourself.” I lick my bottom lip. “You can do it without me.”
“You’re right,” he agrees almost instantly. “But I also need your sources. I know you’ve made friends in all the right places over the years, and it’s something I lack. If it’s the two of us, all of this can be resolved within four months.”
I take a deep breath and ask the question I dread the most.
“What happens after that?”
“The game resumes.” He smirks. “You and I, we were born to kill each other. Let’s see who does it first, shall we?”
“That’s not—”
“Stop fighting me.”
“I warned you.” I give him the verbal reminder of my previous threat and throw a piece of glass at his face. “I wasn’t done speaking.”
I was nine years old when I found my passion for knives. I started collecting them, cleaning them, and keeping them in my room as souvenirs. They were scattered all around—my pride and joy.
Father signed me up for some classes, and I learned how to throw them.
I never miss, no matter what I throw at my opponent.
The sharp piece of glass slices across Hudson’s left cheek before falling down to the floor behind him. The sound of it falling is the only thing I can hear before it sets in.
Regret.
Oh, God.
No, no, no.
Hudson is silent as a red line forms on his cheek. Two seconds pass, and blood starts dripping. It’s not a major injury, but it’s bound to leave a scar. I aimed the sharpest part of the glass and made sure it would cut him deeply.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Noelle. Not now.”
His calm demeanor and flat voice are enough to have my heart nearly jump out of my chest. Goosebumps scratch my skin as I suck in a deep breath. His murderous intent is directed toward me, and, in this situation, I have no chance of winning.
I jump off the high stool and start running.
The sharpest objects are in my bedroom. He might’ve gotten rid of the knives and bullets, but there are quite a few things I can use. I only need to reach them.
His footsteps are close behind me, and dread fills me as I reach the stairs.
“There is no point in running, Noelle,” he chants.
Why can’t he be angry and scream at me? It’s less terrifying than this. Blood freezes in my veins, and I can feel my bones chilling. My entire body temperature drops low and as I grab the railing and put my right foot on the stair, I’m yanked back.
Within a second, my back collides with the harsh, wooden floor.
Pain explodes through my body, and my eyes snap shut. I start counting backward from ten, trying to ease the pain, but to no avail. If my back isn’t broken, it will be bruised for the next two years.
Hudson gets on top of me, and that’s the first thing I see when I open my eyes.
He grabs my hands and pins them above my head, holding me caged. I don’t have enough strength to shake him off myself, and the pain in my back only tells me to remain as I am until it stops.
But the pain doesn’t stop. In fact, it intensifies as time goes by.
I’m in the presence of the devil himself.
A sadistic grin tugs on the corner of Hudson’s mouth. His eyes are wide, pupils dilated to the point I can barely see the green of his irises. He brings his face an inch away from me, and I’m terrified.
The insanity, the pure need to see my blood, wins. The man in front of me is someone I don’t know.
“You really bring out the sadist in me, Noelle.” He laughs darkly. It’s deep, rich, and threatening. A little vow that promises he won’t stop until I’m broken entirely and at his mercy.
A shiny object flashes in the light. It’s dawn, and some rays of sunshine sneak their way through the thick, black curtains. It’s a pocketknife but not from my collection. It’s Hudson’s.
“What are you doing?” I breathe out, my teeth clattering together.
“Are you afraid?” He traces the tip of the knife along my jaw. He keeps the pressure hard enough to lightly scratch me but not to wound me. It’s nothing compared to the wound I inflicted on him.
By now, the blood has stopped dripping, and it’s nearly dry.
“Should I be afraid?”
“Yes, Noelle. You should be petrified. You woke the devil, and you should be prepared to deal with the consequences.”
I can’t breathe.
My throat closes, and I can’t force myself to swallow the knot that forms. Instead, my lips part, and I’m unable to move. All I can do is pray that he takes his revenge and makes it quick.
But the look of pure insanity tells me it will be anything but quick.
The blade reaches my cheek, mirroring the part of his face where the scar will be.
Hudson applies pressure, cutting into my flesh.
I can feel everything about the cold, sharp, metal tip of the pocketknife probing into my skin as he drags it to the side. It stings beyond my imagination, but I don’t allow myself to scream in pain.
I bite my bottom lip until I draw blood, tasting the metal in my mouth. My entire lip is covered in blood, and I don’t expect what happens next, not even in my wildest dreams.
Hudson lowers his head and takes my bottom lip in between his. He sucks off the blood, licking in between.
His sweet tongue darts all over the quivering lip, taking all of the blood in his mouth.
I’m frozen in fear, but something slowly starts to build in the pit of my stomach. I know what it is, and I want to ignore it. However, I can’t. My body heats up as if he poured gasoline all over me and lit a match.
Fire explodes in my stomach, and I forfeit all rights to be reasonable. I can’t ignore the tingling sensation that is happening in the lower part of my stomach and how good it’s making me feel.
It’s like poison is spreading through my body, and he’s the antidote.
I don’t want it to end.
I want to chase the high to the ends of the earth. I want to suffocate myself in this exhilarating motility until there’s nothing left of me. I need the softness of his lips to be my undoing.
But Hudson doesn’t let me have it.
He distances himself from me, staring at me with nothing but pure hatred in his eyes. But that only intensifies my greed to own this feeling, to forever have this sensitivity for myself.
He licks the remaining blood off his bottom lip and removes the blade from my cheek.
“Never make yourself bleed. Your blood is mine and mine only.”