Chapter 35 Malic
“Hello, Sunshine.” I sing-song joyfully and grin when Huxley’s moss-green eyes slowly pop open and he takes in his surroundings, which isn’t much. But you know what? It’s my damn paradise.
The basement. It’s my favorite place to break free of everything.
It eats away at the pesky feelings gnawing in the back of my mind, muting them so I become the best man I can become.
The man my boss molded me to be. His soldier.
Loyal to a fault and eager to please. I owe him everything, after all.
He saved me from my birth giver and sent her on her way.
Despite resembling a dungeon, my basement is a brightly lit, carefully concealed space under the gym that we help run for our boss.
No one knows it’s down here. Well, except Wilder and me.
Fuck. I bet this will be the first place my keeper searches for me.
I eye Huxley as he eyes me back suspiciously.
Yeah, I need to get this show on the road and make the big, bad future gang leader sing to me a beautiful tune of information.
I grin more as Huxley sets his sights on the knives with narrowed eyes and an annoyed huff.
Am I really not entertaining enough for him?
This entire gesture seems like an inconvenience for him and nothing more.
There’s no fear in his eyes. No piss in his pants, which is usually the best part.
Minus the terrible odor, of course. But that’s when I know I truly have them shaking in their boots.
He’s lucky I didn’t strip him down before strapping him to his seat. That’s even better. Threaten a man’s manhood, and he wails like a baby. It’s music to my ears.
Huxley licks his lips, while quickly testing the straps around his wrists and legs that are keeping him to the metal chair sitting in the middle of the room.
Sorry, Pal. There’s no escaping me. Even if he had the chance to run, I’d cut him off before he stepped foot through the secret door leading to the first floor.
The fluorescent lights flicker and shine down on us, haunting us with their ominous buzz.
Hux takes me in with a sigh. Not looking the least bit concerned. Well, until he looks me over inch by inch.
“Why are you naked?” he grunts, testing the restraints again and never taking his eyes off me.
Aw, my dick is hypnotizing him. How fucking cute. Maybe I should make my dick flex a few times for him. He’d probably like it or something.
I look down at my naked body, taking in the tattoos across my flesh with a happy grin.
“Why ruin my best pair of shoes?”
He blinks several times at my answer but still doesn’t look alarmed.
“You snuck into my house.” Not a question. A statement.
“Not the first time, Old Chap,” I quip, grabbing a knife from the shelf.
“Hmm, someone didn’t do a very good cleaning job.
” I frown at the dried blood on the tip of the knife.
Damn it, Keeper. You’re supposed to sanitize our precious weapons after using them on traitors.
Not only do I not want their blood staining my best weapons, but how gross.
“Not the first time? Jesus.” He hangs his head, slightly shaking it in disbelief. “What exactly is this about, Malic?” He sighs, exhaustion seeming to pull him down as he peers up at me.
It’s the effects of the medication. Making him drowsy and compliant.
Maybe it’s a little bit of a truth serum, too.
Hopefully. I need him to spill his guts before I actually spill his guts on the concrete floor.
I’m tired of tiptoeing around these assholes.
The kings of fucking campus. Yeah right.
There are new kings in town, and it’s time to step on toes.
His, specifically. Tonight. Maybe stabby stab him a little. Or a lot. Or however much I feel like.
Because tonight is the night I throw everything out the window and end Huxley Crewe.
“You know exactly what this is about,” I say, pointing the knife at him.
“You want to discuss her, don’t you?” Tension strains his face, and he grunts several times.
“The binds are too tight, Huxley,” I taunt. “You can’t escape this conversation.” I grin again.
“Leave her alone. She’s…”
“You’re right, this is about my sister, Meredith.” I pull out my phone, ignoring his words, eager to show him the footage I was gifted of him interacting with her.
He sits up straighter, a stranger expression crossing his features, and I cock my head. Wait. What did he say? I shake my head. Whatever. Nothing matters except Meredith and where the hell she is.
“Where is she?” I ask, holding the phone in front of his face.
The footage we captured from Bobby plays across the screen. It’s all the evidence I needed to bring him here and force him to watch it again and again. Until his tongue loosens and he tells me everything I want to hear.
Everything I need to hear.
He can’t deny he was there. Or the interaction.
Huxley’s features tighten again. “I don’t know,” he breathes, almost with sincerity.
But do I believe him? Fuck no.
His entire life, he learned to lie, steal, and manipulate his way out of situations.
Including torture sessions. Nathanial Franco wouldn’t raise these boys with his own two hands without making them feel the edge of a knife blade and order them to hold their tongues.
He knows his organization well. Too bad I know it better.
They’re trained. Smart. And prepared for this sort of thing. It’s almost too bad I don’t have time on my side to thoroughly drag this out.
I take the knife and hold it to his throat. “Where the fuck is my sister?” I snarl. My patience snaps like rubber bands. One by one, breaking apart until they’re nothing but a pile on the ground, and the monster swarming through my veins breaks free, taking control of me.
He swallows thickly against the sharp edge of the knife. Panic doesn’t reside in his eyes. Neither does fear. It’s acceptance. He knew this was coming. Somehow. Maybe he knew the cameras were there, and that I was looking. But who wouldn’t be?
“Where is she?” I say as calmly as I can. But in my defense, there is nothing calm living in my soul right now. Chaos swirls in my mind, aching to make this fucker bleed more, riding me hard, wanting to rip through his throat and watch as all his blood drips to the floor like paint.
It’s a fucking art.
“That was the last time I spoke to her,” he says calmly, looking straight into my eyes without flinching or missing a beat.
“We went our separate ways that night after that conversation. I went home to the mansion. She went to her apartment. Or not.” He cocks his head, gauging my hardened expression.
Oh, if looks could kill. He’d be roadkill by now. Actually, that’s not a bad idea. I could chop him to bits. Huxley Crewes, who? Never heard of him. Or met him.
Too bad his death would create a mess of epic proportions. Do I want to create a bigger mess? Yes. I absolutely do. The temptation tingles at the tips of my fingers, currently holding tight to the knife I wish I could use. Over and over again.
Sorry, Boss. He ran into my knife twenty-nine times. It wasn’t my fault.
Like that would work.
Fuck, focus!
I shake my head, coming back to the present. I can’t let murder infiltrate my mind and take over. Not right now. I’ve fallen prey to that way too many times to count. The way it consumes me. It’s freeing. Liberating, even.
Huxley watches me with a blank stare, taking me in. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. Sometimes I like to agree. Maybe even right now. There’s a sincerity in his gaze peeking through, begging me to understand that he’s telling the truth.
But my rationality is all out the window as I dig the knife deeper into the flesh of his throat.
All I see is the video playing in my mind on repeat, and screaming—Huxley did this!
Blood trickles from the wound, splashing over the sharpened edges of the blade, dirtying it more.
But it’s my kind of fucking dirty. I could bathe in the blood of my enemies and come out stronger than before.
“You sure about that?” I hiss, leaning in and staring directly into his eyes more.
“Give me the truth, asshole. Where the fuck is Meredith, and what did you do to her? Speak to her about? Give me all the fucking answers or you won’t walk out of here intact.
” That’s a fucking promise. I’ll rip him apart piece by piece until he gives me the answers I seek.
“Are you ready for this conversation, Malic?” he asks calmly again, tilting his head so his throat is at an angle.
“Are you ready to learn the fucking truth of what’s happening in Greenwood?
” He raises a confident brow like he’s about to blow my fucking socks off.
“Learn the truth of what Meredith was after?” After? What the hell is he even talking about?
“I know everything that’s happening in Greenwood, asshole.
I know every heartbeat. Everything that makes this place tick.
Now, what did you give my fucking sister?
” That’s the question of the hour. Why was my sister in his vicinity?
It’s alarming at fucking best and makes me want to rip his eyeballs out.
Actually, he doesn’t need those, does he?
“Money,” Huxley says with a slight shrug, pushing against the binds on his wrists.
I blink. “The fuck she need money for? She’s providing for herself.” She’s a nurse, living on her own and working her ass off to accomplish what she had. How her and I came from the same mother, I’ll never fucking know.
Huxley’s deep chuckle fills the space. “Yes. She does. Quite well, too. She’s a badass nurse and a badass person.”
I rear back, blinking at him several times before putting the knife back against his throat, heavier than last time. “You can’t compliment your way out of this,” I growl, gnashing my teeth together violently.
I’m losing the strands of myself unraveling before him. If he’s not careful, he’ll be at the end of my murderous rage.