Chapter 29
ELSIE
“Michael.” The voice of one of the men falters just as we step inside, sweat beating at his brow. “What’s this about, my friend?”
Must be the men with their palms on their holstered weapons that has panic swimming in his eyes.
I’m sure they don’t recognize me. I barely look like that woman, especially with the way I’m dressed.
They’re used to seeing my flesh, my skin bare for them to poke and prod.
Not the wife of one of the most powerful men in this city.
“Did we do something to offend you to be treated with such hostility?” the other one deadpans.
“Senators.” Michael’s leery grin sparks to life, and his scar jerks as he stares at them.
They must know that there’s something to fear, that this will be bad for them, as they slide back a step. But one of Michael’s men plants his hands at their backs, keeping them still.
“Look, Michael, whatever this is, we will fix it. I promise,” the first one says.
I don’t know their names. We never did.
“If this is about the expansion of the lot you recently purchased, w-we…uh, we can speak to some people. Consider it done,” the same one continues.
“Sit.” Michael gestures with a hand. “Relax.”
My palm is tight within his, and I know he’s trying hard not to squeeze my fingers. He’s seething. Ravaged. He wants blood. And these men deserve nothing less.
“We’d rather stand,” the other one says, combing a hand through his gray hair.
His eyes are crystal blue, so peaceful, yet the man is as vicious as the waves of the ocean crashing in through the storm.
Michael’s face grows cold.
“I didn’t say you had a choice. Now sit,” he snaps sharply.
Their eyes expand, and one of his men grabs each one by the backs of their shirts and shoves them down into the two chairs already there.
Michael takes my other hand and pulls me into his chest. “I can never give you back what they took from you. But I will make sure that they can’t hurt you anymore. You will watch them die. And they will know why.”
“D-d-die?” one of them stutters. “What have we done? Please, Michael, don’t do this.”
“Oh my God…” the other man gasps.
But we ignore them. This overwhelming sense of gratitude washes over me, and I throw my arms around him.
“Thank you.” I shatter with emotions beating through my heart, coating my throat, tightening my stomach.
“You never have to thank me for a thing.” He forces himself back, holding my face in his hands as he stares deep into my eyes.
And I feel it, that connection between us. It’s in the way my soul stirs. In the way my body feels warm and light, as though I’m floating.
He kisses me softly. And every time he does, it’s like the very first time. He drags himself away, brushing his thumb across my mouth, and with a long inhale, he turns his attention back to the men.
“So, gentlemen…”
He casually removes his suit jacket, handing it to his brother, uncuffing his shirt and pulls the sleeves past his firm forearms. His biceps flex, thick veins bulging beneath his skin.
“We have quite the problem before us, and I’d like to know how you’d solve it.”
“Please, Michael,” one of the men begs. “Whatever it is, I swear, we will fix it.”
Michael jerks up his chin to a few of his guys, and they immediately reach into a large black canvas bag, revealing a pair of zip ties.
As soon as they start toward them, the men plead for mercy, their eyes darting all around the room. But they must realize there’s no escaping.
“What the hell is this?” the second one asks.
They try fighting off Michael’s guys, but it’s no use, and their arms are easily tied behind their backs.
Michael does nothing but glare with a taunting look set in his eyes.
“You’re insane!” the man continues. “I’ve helped you, and this is how you repay me?”
Michael casually kneels and retrieves a gun from his ankle. My eyes widen. I had no inclination it was even there. Without a second thought, he makes it to them and smashes the butt into the temple of the one who was just talking. His voice is now lost to his pitiful groans.
“Now, Alan,” Michael tells the other one. “Will you fucking cooperate, or do I need to do the same to you as I did to Bobby here?”
“No. J-just don’t kill us. Okay? We won’t say a word to anyone about this.”
Michael snickers. “I know you won’t.”
He struts to the corner of the room and takes his time dragging a chair over to them. He drops it right in front of them and settles into it.
Bobby’s head wobbles side to side as he attempts to come to.
“You love your wife, don’t you, Alan?”
“I…yeah. Of-of course.”
“Good.” Michael pats his knee with a cruel smile on his face. “Now, imagine Claire was kidnapped.”
“What?” His eyes grow wide. “Don’t you touch her!”
A rough chuckle scratches out of Michael’s throat. “I’m not the one hurting women, Alan.”
He bends his face into him, his breathing rougher by the second.
“Now, as I was saying. Imagine she was taken, sold into sex trafficking, where men paid to do whatever they wanted to her. What is it that they did to you, baby?”
He turns to me over his shoulder, and shame fills my cheeks.
“It’s okay.” Affection fills his gaze as he rises, moving toward me.
My stomach flips. He clutches my chin in his palm, his brows bending with emotion as he gazes down at me.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers. “But I need you to tell them who you are. I want them to know you’re no longer alone. That I’m here now. That you, Elsie Marino, have the power.”
I tremble out a nod, and with a rush of my breath, he shutters his eyes and kisses my forehead before turning back to them.
He holds my hand protectively, both of us with our eyes on the men who hurt me.
I summon the courage even as my body swells with fear, and I repeat everything I had already told him.
“Oh my God. You…” Alan whispers, his eyes bugged.
And I must admit, seeing that shock on his face, it’s worth the momentary dread I felt.
“Don’t you fucking address my wife!” Michael roars, dropping my hand and rushing to him, throwing a heavy punch into his chin.
Blood spurts out from his lip, and he screams, but Michael doesn’t stop. He hits him over and over, as though he’s possessed. As though he’s expelling every bit of rage that’s been bottled up.
He finally stops, his entire body shaking from the pummeling of his breathing.
“Michael, we…we…I…” The other man finally comes to, his eyelids fluttering while he tries to formulate a sentence.
“Nothing to say?” The room echoes with Michael’s diabolical laughter, like the devil himself has taken over.
“I’m sorry,” Alan cries, spitting out blood. “We didn’t know—”
“Know what?” Michael slams the gun into his cheek. “Know that she’s my wife? Does it matter whose wife she is? Whose fucking daughter?”
He smashes the weapon into Alan’s face again, then again, until you can’t make out his features any longer. Alan coughs up blood, trying to reply, but nothing else comes out. Michael raises the gun and points it square into Alan’s crotch.
Pop.
The bullet roars to life and Alan’s wild scream plunders through the room, ringing louder.
If I hadn’t had the kind of life I did, I probably would be affected by this much blood and violence. But I’ve seen innocent women beaten and killed, so seeing someone who deserves it take a hit doesn’t do a thing to me.
“Mi-Michael…” Bobby whispers, barely able to look at him, like he’s wafting into unconsciousness again. “I—I’m s-s-sorry.”
“You’re not sorry, you sick son of a bitch. You’re sorry you got caught.” Without a second thought, he shoots him in the dick too, nothing left there now as he howls like a dying animal.
Michael’s footsteps crunch over to me. Taking my hand in his, he bores his eyes right to mine, extending the weapon in his hand to me.
“Take it, little dove. Make them bleed.”
“What? No.” I shake my head. “I can’t.”
He clasps a palm to my cheek, staring firmly into my eyes.
“You can. You have to be the one to kill at least one of them. You have to know that you are my wife, and my wife doesn’t cower to anyone.
” His bloody knuckles brush down my face.
“They don’t get to hold the power anymore. It’s yours now, baby.”
He clutches my hand, opening up my fingers, and places the gun inside. I stare unflinchingly at him.
Can I really do this? Can I take another life?
“Show them what you’re made of.”
I drag a shallow breath into my heavy lungs, and gradually, I face them, stepping closer, Michael behind me.
When I look at them now, all I see are the men they were that day they hurt me. All I see is what they did to that girl who was someone’s child. They didn’t care. She was nothing but a toy they used until she was no longer needed.
And now, here, I can hurt them. I can make sure they never do this to anyone else.
“A bullet to the chest. That’s all.” Michael’s voice is gravelly at the curve of my ear, fingertips stroking up my arms as I grip the gun in both hands and point it at Bobby.
His face awakens with terror, every stitch of his features corrupted by fear. “Please…I—I’m sorry.”
“Do it,” Michael says while Bobby sobs, no longer as tough as he was that day.
My heart thrashes in my rib cage, my fingers slowly pulling on the trigger. Just a little more and….
Pop.
I stumble back with a gasp, and Michael is there, taking the weapon from me and holding me in his arms while my entire body convulses.
I killed him. Oh my God. I killed him.
My hands tremble around his back, my pulse slamming in my ears.
“It’s okay, baby. You did what you had to do, and I will do the rest.” He kisses my forehead. “I’m proud of you.”
Taking the gun, he levels it to Alan’s chest. “You deserve a lot more, but this is our wedding, and people will start to talk.”
Alan raises his head, but barely, his cheeks marred with open wounds.
“I—”
“Go to hell,” Michael grates before the sound of the pistol shouts into the night.
Alan instantly slumps forward, spilling crimson from the hole Michael put there.
“Get rid of them,” he instructs his people just as he goes over to the sink and washes the blood from his hands. But his white dress shirt is speckled with it.
Oh, God.
He takes the jacket from Gio and buttons it, and just like that, there’s not a trace to be seen. He still appears the same, while I’m a mess. Or at least I feel like I am.
“Come on, little dove.” He approaches me, taking my hand and leaving a soft kiss on my knuckles. “Let’s go enjoy the rest of our wedding.”
How can this be so easy for him? My heart beats loudly; I’m afraid everyone will know what we did.
He leads me out into the garage, and right before we enter the house, he pauses, removing that handkerchief from his front pocket and carefully dabbing my cheek.
And as I stare down at the gray cloth, I find it painted with specks of red. As I lift my face, we lock eyes, forged in our sins until death do us part.