TWENTY-FIVE
F or a fucking she-devil, Noelle sure sleeps like an angel.
She’s snuggling into me, clutching onto my shirt like it’s her lifeline. Her long hair falls messily down her shoulders, her naked body tucked underneath the thick blanket. Her eyelashes are long, and it’s only now that I realize she has a small beauty mark under her left eyebrow.
Her breathing is soft and even, and she’s sleeping soundly. It’s like she’s not afraid that she could be in danger. She doesn’t sense me moving around, nor does she hear me chuckle when I see a frown appear on her face.
I prop myself on my elbow, using the other hand to brush off a fallen strand of her hair from her face. Even in her sleep, she leans into my hand. I stroke her cheek softly, and a genuine smile forms on my face.
I’m not sure when the fuck I went from wanting her dead to wanting anyone who dares to look at her dead.
She’s the one who nearly killed me many times.
She’s the one who killed my brother in cold blood while grinning like a maniac.
She’s the one who delivered a decapitated head with a laugh.
And she’s the only one I yearn for.
I should fucking hate her. I should kill her now while she’s vulnerable and defenseless. I should pierce a bullet through her skull or slice her throat open, just like she did to my brother.
Yet, I can’t bring myself to even think of her death.
I never had this need to own—to possess—anyone. Women came and went, and none of them piqued my interest quite like Noelle Liliana Campbell. Her constant talking back, provoking me, and trying to outdo me only makes me want to chain her to a goddamn wall and keep her hidden from the rest of the world forever.
Noelle murmurs softly and nuzzles into my chest further, then releases a sigh of contentment, a small smile on her face.
I stare at her collarbone and neck, both of which are filled with an array of purple shades. It makes blood go straight to my cock. She’s so fucking perfect when she’s mine. Her collarbone looks perfect to carry a tattoo of my name. The thought is almost too tempting for me to resist the urge to get a tattoo gun immediately and brand her with my name.
Noelle Campbell is the epitome of insanity. And all I want is to drown in that insanity until it completely takes over me. I can’t get enough of her foul tongue, soft skin, and those gorgeous eyes.
If I’m certain of one thing, it’s that I am not allowing her to marry that motherfucker. She is now completely mine. It doesn’t seem like she’s resisting it but even if she tries, she can’t do anything about it. I’ve never seen anything that I wanted and didn’t get it.
She’s no exception.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. With a groan, I turn around, rejecting Lyla’s call. She floods my messages, spamming me until I’m pissed. Such a good morning has been ruined because my dumbass cousin is being persistent like a leech.
However, the moment I open the first text, I freeze.
I’m careful not to wake up Noelle, and I place a soft kiss on her forehead before quickly putting on my clothes, closing the door behind me. I’m rushing to reach Henrick’s house, driving way past the speed limits, barely able to suppress the sudden burst of anger.
Lyla is waiting for me in the driveaway, anxious and as pale as a sheet of paper.
Relief washes over her face when she notices me, her pacing finally coming to a stop.
“Oh, thank god.” She sighs. “It’s really bad, Hudson.”
I walk straight past her. “Where are they?”
“The library.”
I don’t ask anything else and quickly rush up the stairs until I reach the top floor. It’s mom’s sanctuary. I cannot believe that motherfucker ruined it for her. Leah De Santis is a quiet and reserved person. I often wondered if she even liked us as kids and then I saw how her face would light up whenever she was in the library.
That happiness and pure bliss in her eyes is something I’ve been trying to preserve, to keep it sacred. It’s her only safe space where she’s able to truly smile and act like a proper, functional human being.
I reach the door, only to find it wide open.
I’m unsure whether to laugh at the absurdity of the situation or to kill everyone inside and just get it over with.
Henrick and Ray are standing within an inch of each other. Their clothes are fucked up, their ties and jackets thrown to the floor. Their faces are equally as fucked up; both of them are filled with bruised eyes, split lips, and bleeding noses.
They’re holding guns pointed at each other’s heads, and neither of them is speaking.
To the right, where the fireplace is—well was, because that too was destroyed—are Kalina and Mom. They’re hugging each other tightly, and tears are continuously streaming down their faces, their sobbing the only thing audible in the room.
The library is entirely destroyed.
Bullet holes in walls, broken shelves, tarnished books all over the floor. Broken glass pieces scattered all around. Even the damn curtains are ripped apart. Evidently, neither Ray nor Henrick gave a damn about ruining this place.
I pull out my gun and shoot in between Ray and Henrick, hitting the wall across the room.
They whip their heads in my direction, just now noticing me. The grip on their weapons only tightens, and neither of them is willing to lower their guns. In their pathetic minds, the person who back off first is the loser.
“What the hell is going on in here?”
“Son,” Henrick says through gritted teeth.
“You know what?” I take a deep breath. “I don’t actually give a shit. Lower the weapons, both of you. Your wives are fucking terrified.”
Ray no longer cares if he loses against Henrick. He immediately drops the gun and runs toward Kalina. She slaps him but then starts checking to see if he’s injured, inspecting his face. Relief washes over her when she realizes the wounds are only superficial, and she sighs, hugging him tightly.
Henrik, on the other hand, isn’t as lucky. He approaches Mom, but she barely even sees him. A look of pain glistens in her eyes as she finally takes in her surroundings. The only place she ever truly felt safe in is now completely destroyed by the hand of her husband.
“Now.” I clear my throat. “Kalina and Leah should probably… catch up. The two of you grandpas, follow me.”
“Who the fuck do you think you’re bossing around?”
I glare at my father and raise a brow. His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t say anything else. My eyes find my mother, and she nods. She needs time alone, far from him. I’m not sure if they will ever go back to being okay after this, but it’s also not my fucking problem.
He should’ve picked a different room to destroy.
I’m out of the room before either of them can try to protest and with a flick of my wrist, everyone inside of the house leaves. I make my way into the kitchen, grabbing one of Henrick’s most prized possessions: a whiskey bottle that’s older than me. I contemplate which one to open but then open all three just to fucking spite him.
I’m petty like that.
Though I’m generous enough to pour both of them a glass. They wait for them on the kitchen counter and when they stroll inside, Henrick’s face turns sour almost immediately. I only raise a brow, and it manages to shut him up before he even speaks.
“Now.” I tap my finger on the counter. “What was that about? Don’t get me wrong, I genuinely don’t give a fuck whether or not the two of you will end up killing each other. But you ruined the most sacred room in the house—Leah’s room. So I’m fucking curious what was so serious that it couldn’t wait until the two of you came downstairs.”
It’s Ray who speaks up first, though he’s as grumpy as always.
“Kalina doesn’t leave the house often. She went this morning to check on Noelle—who, by the way, still hasn’t contacted us.” He throws me a pointed look, which I ignore. I delivered his message. That’s what he asked me to do. “She never made it to Noelle’s. She ran into Leah, and, well, Leah brought her here.”
“So that pissed you off enough to draw weapons? We’re supposed to be civilized. Why isn’t that extended to them?”
“Because your father is a cunt,” Ray grunts, reaching for his glass. “Some words were said from his side, and I’m not generous enough to let it slide.”
“This is why I’ve been called on a Sunday morning? The two of you should grow the fuck up.”
“Now, that’s a little harsh,” Henrick grunts. “But where the fuck were you? I couldn’t reach you for the past week.”
“I couldn’t reach Noelle, either.”
They exchange a glance before both of them turn their focus on me. I try not to let it show. No father wants to know that their daughter had her brains fucked right out of her head for a week straight. Especially not by the man he despises.
“I’ve been focusing on trying to find The Silencer,” I point out with a harsh stare. “Which is what the two of you should’ve been doing instead of fighting.”
“Did you find anything?”
I raise a brow. “Did you?”
In fact, in between fucking the shit out of Noelle, I kept in touch with Mika and Lyla. The two of them are going above and beyond to help out. Mika isn’t someone who often wants to help but since he’ll be paid generously, he’s been working day and night.
After Noelle killed the bullet maker, The Silencer went into hiding, it seems. No new victims, no new bullets found, and, most importantly, no one is coming after Noelle and me. It looks like we made it clear during the gala that the two families aren’t on good terms, which means he has two angles to look at.
“Nothing much,” Ray grumbles. “Looks like he went into hiding. But with the auction approaching, I don’t think he’ll remain silent. If he does, it means that he found enough victims way before Noelle took the bullet maker’s head.”
“And if that’s the case,” Henrick chimes in, “there’s only one way to resolve it. You two need to go directly to that auction and burn it from the inside out.”
That’s Noelle’s plan, too.
But the thought of putting her in danger makes my blood boil. She’s a very capable woman and would never go down without a fight, but she’s still lacking. I don’t doubt her resolve to save those people and kill those who deserve it, but her hand-to-hand combat needs work.
Serious work.
I’ll be by her side at all times, but it’s not enough. The two of us will be against God knows how many of them, and one little mistake could cost us our lives. I don’t give a fuck if they kill me, but I will never allow them to even touch a strand of her hair.
Noelle is too stubborn.
She’ll never agree to let me handle it. If I lock her up, she’ll crawl her way out of it and go on her own, which is a disaster waiting to happen. That’s the only reason I’m allowing her to go. It’s easier to keep an eye on her when she’s close to me, but it doesn’t make it ideal.
“That’s what we will do,” I agree. “Both of you form teams of your best people and have them train relentlessly before the auction. As soon as it starts, I want that place surrounded. Not a single fly should be able to escape. Do you understand me?”
“I’m working on it already,” Ray says. “You’ll have backup on standby. It will be a rough fight. Are you prepared for it?”
“Yes,” I say without missing a beat.
I only hope that the gut feeling in my stomach doesn’t prove to be right. Somehow, I’m convinced it won’t go as smoothly as we’re hoping. And it’s fucking annoying the shit out of me.