Page 26 of Queen of Madness

“How fucking long?” My father’s hiss cuts through the air, the don in full effect.

Whatever feelings of guilt he had dissolved, replaced by a smug snarl. “The entire time.”

“Good.” Mario’s head pops up at Father’s comment, his pupils going wide before he recovers himself. “I love feeding rats to my dogs.”

Rats. Mario. He’s asoldier.One of my father’s. He... he’s one of the guards that goes with my mother when she goes to Protestant liturgy.

He’s a rat.

“Tell me. What was your grand plan? Find a way to kill your partner guard and my driver, and deliver my wife to your Boss? Or perhaps you thought you’d turn and kill her and face a quick death? Do you not understand I have eyeseverywhere? That the moment you walked into their territory, I was informed within a minute?”

“Lies.” Mario spits on the floor, the mucus a nasty shade of brown and red.

“I am many things, but a liar I am not. Tell me what I want to know.”

Mario smiles, but it’s anything but happy, and it sends a chill down my skin, making it feel as though bugs are trailing over my flesh. “Sure. I’ll tell you this. They are coming,Boss. You’ll watch her be slit from throat to cunt and be fucked while they bleed her dry.”

Mother.My lungs constrict, my heart squeezing in my chest. There’s no way he would ever let anyone hurt her, but the mere thought of anything happening to her makes bile burn my throat.

Father doesn’t respond, but even from my perch, I see the vein in the side of his neck throbbing. He strips his jacket from his shoulders, hanging it from a hook on a nearby column before slowly and methodically rolling up his crisp black sleeves.

Both Mario and I’s gaze flit to the silver knife one of the soldiers hands him. He twirls it between his fingers, his blinks slow and lazy. “Ah, but you first, Mario. You first.”

Then come the screams. Screams of anger from my father and wails of agony from the man he slices from limb to limb. He spills his blood with every last secret Mario tells, and after each one, he begs for death.

The same death my boys begged me for. The very same they had to fight against. And as I watch the skin be stripped from the rat piece by piece, I find myself hoping he has to fight as long as they did before my father finally grants his wish.

Avibration is what wakes me. My phone rattles against the wooden nightstand with a picture of a heart filling the screen.

“Two nights in a row?” Trigger’s sleepy words warm my neck he’s nuzzling.

That is odd. But also, Onyx is more stressed than she’s letting on.

Stretching my arm out, I grab the phone, tapping the small green circle before pressing the phone to my ear. “Another late rendezvous, Boss?”

I’m met with silence.

Shit.

“I’m coming.”

Normally, when I’m tangled in the bed with the twins, it takes a lot of willpower to force myself away. They are the anchors keeping me from drifting out to sea and becoming lost in the raging waters of my mind, and I’m so grateful to have them. But I also know that Onyxdoesn’thave that.

There is nothing to keep her company in the night except death and memories of death.

I turn my face, kissing a sleepy Trigger before slipping my naked body away and leaning over to sneak a quick peck from Trick, who’s lying on the other side of the large bed. He grabs my wrist, pulling me closer and turning a chaste kiss into a make-out session. My core aches as I force myself to slow him down, running my thumb along his jaw before he finally releases me.

“I won’t be long tonight,” I promise.

“It’s okay. Take care of her.”

I grant him a solemn smile, grabbing my discarded gown from the floor and slipping it over my head.

It only takes half a minute to reach Onyx’s room, where I punch in my code to open the door. Quiet music plays on her bedside speaker, a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels resting next to her phone.

I climb into her bed, the cool silk sheets falling over my frame as I find her and curl up in front of her. In the years that I’ve known Onyx, I’ve never seen her upset or distraught, and for once, I wish that when she had one of her nightmares that she would give herself a second to be sad. To cry. To mourn. To hate. To be angry. Tofeel.

But I understand why she doesn’t. It could be the thing that tears her apart. Keeps her from finishing what we all so desperately want.

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