Page 38 of The CEO

“No, sir. Sullivan will be at the warehouse within the hour.”

After ending the call, I retreat to my bedroom, reaching far into the recesses of my closet to retrieve a black bag that contains a uniform I haven’t worn in a while. I smile when I find it, my palm already itching with excitement at what I have to do.

Tonight, I’m not Damien Knox, CEO philanthropist with a heart of gold for the people of Chicago. Tonight, I’m Damien Knox, the leader of The Shadows—the one they nicknamed The CEO because there is no negotiating when it comes to me. By the time I’ve been called, there’s only one job for me to do, and that’s to eliminate any individual who threatens my organization.

Foster is already waiting by the car when I emerge, his expression revealing nothing. “The warehouse has been prepared as per the protocol.”

“Good.” I settle into the seat, checking my phone. “Status on Eve?”

“Still home, reviewing material from the gala and her research. No external communication since returning home.”

“Maintain surveillance but keep your distance. I don’t want her alerted to anything we might be doing tonight.”

The drive to the warehouse is silent. I prefer it that way; it allows my mind to shift fully into operational mode. Marcus Sullivan’s betrayal requires an immediate response—not just for the information breach, but for the lack of propriety. His punishment will send a message to anyone else who might consider similar decisions.

The warehouse sits in an industrial zone near the river, its unremarkable exterior concealing a carefully designed interior. It has been soundproofed and includes an excellent drainage system and security measures that ensure complete privacy, no matter how loud the screams might get.

Sullivan is already secured to the gurney when I arrive, his face showing the dawning horror of a man who suddenly understands the magnitude of his miscalculations. The cartels might be dangerous, but they’re about to look like amateurs compared to this.

“Marcus,” I say as I approach slowly and remove my jacket. His face is already flushed, and snot trails from his nose. “I’m disappointed to say the least.”

“Mr. Knox, please—” His voice breaks, fear strangling his words to the point I can’t make out what he’s saying.

“I’m sorry, Marcus,” I say loudly as I drag a metal chair across the cement floor, “you’re going to have to speak up.” The chair’s screeching halts as I turn it around and take a seat, straddling it so I’m looking him right in the eyes.

“Please . . .please.” A string of spit slowly stretches from his quivering lips down to his shirt.

“You’ve placed The Shadows at risk.” I begin rolling up my sleeves with methodical precision. “But more importantly, you’ve betrayedmytrust.”

“The cartel threatened my family,” he pleads, desperation making his voice crack. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice.” I nod to Foster, who brings over a small case containing specialized tools. “You could have come to us for protection. Instead, you sold information that compromised operations and placed our people in danger.”

“I swear, I only used them to help get rid of the bodies. I didn’t tell them anything!”

“Yet they knew enough to fuck up our last deal.” I select a thin blade from the case, testing the edge.

“That wasn’t me!”

“You know, Marcus,” I say, choosing a few other instruments of pain with clinical detachment. “I really, really don’t like being lied to, and I really, really detest liars.”

When I’m the one in control of someone’s impending doom, I don’t waste time telling them every detail of how I know they’re lying. I don’t draw it out with evidence that they’ll just deny anyway. Instead, I like to cut the rot out at the source.

I stand up, grabbing a pair of pliers as Foster moves around him, already aware of what comes next. He grabs either side of Marcus’ face, stretching his mouth open as his eyes grow wide in fear, followed by his screams of terror.

Clamping the nose of the pliers down on the tip of his tongue, I pull it out, stretching it to its limits. Drool begins to trickle down his chin as tears wet his face.

“There’s only one way this ends, Marcus.” I take the knife in my hand. “Because you thought you could take the easy way out and make a little extra money on the side by selling out every single person in this organization, I’m going to take the thing you value most: your filthy, lying tongue.”

What follows is necessary but unpleasant. His screams echo through the warehouse, but only until they hit the soundproofing, where they die out. The blade barely makes a sound as it cuts clean through his tongue, blood now pouring down the front of him like a small river.

He gasps then lets out a gurgled wail as he chokes on his own blood. I have no use for him now. I also have no use for whatever information I might be able to torture out of him regarding the specifics of the information he exchanged with our enemies. Not that his cooperation would save him anyway. Some betrayals cannot be forgiven, regardless of circumstances or remorse.

“Losing your tongue was only the beginning.” I smile as I reach down and pick up the bloody chunk of his flesh before stuffing it back into his mouth, followed by a rag that muffles his screams. “Merely a solution so I don’t have to listen to your lies while I take my time with this next part. Now,” I say as I reach for a much more painful instrument, “the fun can really begin.”

Blood continues to pour from his mouth, oozing darkly and thickly around the rag as he wails in pain. I won’t lie, it’s music to my ears. There’s nothing I value more than loyalty, and there’s nothing I enjoy more than destroying those who betray it.

By the time I finish, my clothes and body are stained red, and Sullivan’s usefulness to me and this organization has ended. I step back, admiring my handiwork. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to take matters into my own hands.

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