RAIN
Chapter thirty-five
Freedom smells a hell of a lot better than that stale cell. I know Dad had called in the one favour the Police Commissioner owed him to get me out scot-free.
No ankle bracelet, no court date, no penthouse.
My father’s coat flies in the breeze as he approaches in the night, fury blazing in his eyes. No words are spoken; he simply motions to the car. I slide into the passenger seat, and a phone is placed in my hand, a video waiting.
Rage blurs the edges of my vision as I watch Rome fucking someone.
“When the fuck was this?”
“Someone leaked it online. I went to see Rome last night when it happened, and he said you already know him.”
I should’ve killed this motherfucker that first night.
Exiting the video, I call the contact labelled Headache. “Meet me at the garage. Bring our masks.”
Hearing the door roll up, I delete yet another video.
People are sharing it on every platform and with each other.
I’ve deleted eighty so far, but that’s barely scratched the surface.
The internet is fucking brutal. It’s easy for people to sit behind a screen and a fake name and judge someone, believing their identity is hidden.
I’ll expose every single one of these fuckers for what they’ve said.
Not every comment is bad—there are many supporting him, and others are disgusted that anyone would share this online and violate Rome’s privacy.
Slamming my laptop shut, I throw it to the leather cushion beside me and stand. Blade tosses me my mask, securing his in place and drawing his hood. My ragged breaths heat the inside of the mask as I draw my hood and pull on my leather gloves.
Every single fucking nerve vibrates with uncontrollable rage as I slide into the passenger seat, and then Blade takes off.
I take the master card from my pocket and tap it on the pad. Blade slides in behind to the dark room, positioning himself beside the door while I stalk to the kitchen island and lift myself up, waiting.
Connor lives in a Weston & Myer apartment complex. For five years, Rome could have been coming here, and I had no idea.
“Don’t tell me you’re only going to shoot the fucker?” Blade asks, already sounding disappointed.
I slide the knife out of my other pocket. “He’s going to wish for death.”
“I’ve taught you well.”
“You haven’t taught me shit.”
Blade’s the one who likes to drag out death. I opt for one shot to the head. Torture, while sometimes required, is messy and not always necessary, but Connor Row will pray for death.
My breaths strain against the plastic when the heavy door thuds, and Connor steps in. A started yell cuts the air as Blade grips his wrists, yanking them behind him and flicking on the dim light.
Connor frantically looks between us as he’s pushed to stand before me. “Wh-who-who the fuck are you?” he stammers.
I eye his styled blond hair, khaki pants and white polo, dumbfounded at what enticed Rome to seek his presence.
I point the knife at him. “Rome Aston.”
His face ghosts, but he plays dumb. “Who’s that?”
“He’s incredible, isn’t he?” I sigh exasperatedly. “Handsome, kind, selfless. An addicting smile, smell, and presence. He’s a fucking god.”
Connor’s dull brown eyes narrow before he screams for help.
“Come on,” Blade groans. “You know this place is soundproof.”
“What do you want from me?”
Connor stiffens as I tap the knife against his temple. “To rid the Earth of a fucked up, selfish piece of shit.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong!”
I slide off the counter and look down at him, pointing my knife to where he was that night.
“A month ago, you woke up there after drinking a glass of vodka.” His eyes widen.
“I texted Rome from your phone that night and told him to come over. I then told him he was never allowed to see you again, or I’d kill you…
I wish I had.” I raise the knife to dimple his cheek and his bulged eyes zero in on the sharp weapon.
“You recorded it, didn’t you?” His lip quivers and he nods.
“Rome wasn’t ready to come out yet. You took that choice away from him.
” Blood trickles out, and I smile at his piercing scream as I cut to the corner of his mouth.
“I also read your texts with him. You loved him, but he never felt the same.”
“He does,” Connor blubbers.
“Shit,” Blade laughs, holding Connor still as he fights. “He’s delusional.”
I want to tell Blade he is as well, but he’s very aware Alexa hates him. He just doesn’t give a fuck.
Connor’s tears mix with the blood, trailing down to where I poke the knife between his collarbone and twist.
“I’ll leave him alone! Please!” he begs.
“Too fucking late,” I whisper, the grating of his bone a fucking melody.
Blood stains his shirt as I grip the handle tighter, slicing down his chest. A blood-curdling scream roars through the air, along with metal flicking when I undo his belt.
“No,” he blubbers between seethes of pain. Tears, blood and snot coating his face. “Pl-please.”
I pull down his pants and underwear. Well, would you look at that. I was right.
I grip him, holding the knife to the base of his dick. “Hope you had some fun with it.”
I slowly begin sawing, the jagged knife shredding the tender flesh and muscle. He screams, trying to hunch over, gaze disorientated. Weak motherfucker is about to pass out.
Blood pools at our feet as I slice through and shove it onto the end of my knife. I grip his jaw, prying it open. I jam it into his throat and rip the knife out, slicing the edge of his mouth on the way.
Rome’s defeated, curled up body flashes in my mind as I drive the knife into Connor’s lower abdomen and rip it up to his rib cage.
I step back and Blade releases him.
Connor falls to the floor, choking and twitching, the remnants of his insides spilling out. My jaw pulses while I watch his life drain away, spreading further around him.
Rome can hate me or love me for this. I don’t fucking care. This piece of shit took away his choice and embarrassed him in front of millions.
Blood drips from my knife, disturbing the reflection staring back in the crimson pool.
Kieran’s gaze locks on me as I approach in the side mirror. “Miss me?” I tease through the open window, leaning against the passenger door.
He scrapes his hand across his black beard to rest his elbow against his door. “It’s been nice, actually.”
“How is he?”
He looks to Rome’s dark house further down the street. “I like him.”
“The fuck did you just say?”
“Calm down.” He reaches to the centre console, lifting a takeaway cup. “He brought me tea,” he lifts a container next, “and biscuits.”
“He knew you were watching him? You’re a shitty stalker.”
“I’ve moved the car occasionally, but he’s smart, and that lady across from him almost smashed the fucking windshield.”
I burst out laughing. “What did you do?”
“Nothing, except park near her house. She obviously isn’t aware you own a house in the neighbourhood.”
When I first discovered where Rome lived, I purchased the only available house within the gates under an alias.
I needed access that wouldn’t have anyone questioning why I was suddenly tapping an access card when I wasn’t a resident.
I was waiting for the right time to talk to Rome about giving the house to Kilah and Indie, but he seemed to want to keep them close, which is why I bought the beds.
Kieran groans, looking out the windshield. “Not again.”
I follow his gaze to the elderly woman approaching in a blue nightgown and robe.
I bite back my laugh, tapping the car. “I’ve got it. Run while you can.”
He doesn’t waste a second starting the car and taking off down the road.
I swipe back my hood, meeting her halfway. Putting on my good boy smile, I nod. “Evening, ma’am.”
Her blue eyes narrow. “Who was that bloody wanker?”
“A friend. He’s just looking out for Rome.”
“I look out for Rome. He doesn’t need some foul-mouthed idiot doing that.” She taps her cane close to my foot in a threat. “I also see you sneaking around at night and going into Rome’s house, but you never park in his driveway.”
“I like to surprise him.”
“Mmm.” She looks me up and down suspiciously. “Name?”
“Rain Weston, ma’am.”
“You’re that prick’s son.”
I laugh and drop my head. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You were taken away in that cop car, but Rome was the one who hit his father.” My face falls and her wrinkled lips smirk. “I was in my kitchen getting a glass of water when I saw a car fly into his driveway. I watched the window smash, and it was Rome who was standing there.”
“I would never allow Rome to go to jail.”
“Will you hurt him?”
“No, never.”
“If you do, I’ll grind you up and use you as a fertiliser.”
My lips pull into a grin. “Understood.”
She gives me another once over. “Rome’s a great kid. My husband adored him, as do I. I see him as my own, and I will not let harm come to him.”
“Nor will I.”
“Be good to him. Goodnight, Rain.”
“Goodnight…um…”
The tap of her cane echoes down the deserted street as she turns to walk away. “You don’t get to know my name.”