Page 81 of His Coveted Obsession

I tucked myself behind some boxes for cover as she worked. It took so damn long that Sully and Dante wrapped up their jobs and met me.

Sully had blood on his hands, which he wiped on his black cargo pants. Dante held out his gun, keeping a watchful eye.

“All dead?” I asked.

“I have a feeling most are downstairs,” Dante said.

Soon, the door gently clicked.

“Done,” she said.

Dante tugged the door open, and I was the first to scale down the metal steps, careful to keep quiet, my knife in my hand, ready. I was watchful for any movement or notice that I was there. The men had no reason to assume they were under attack yet, so nothing was buzzing down there.

The area was fresh with paint and new concrete. There were rooms with metal doors, hiding who knew what.

“Found them. They’re at the very other end of the cellar in a large, enclosed room with cells. A young man is there, who I assume is Thomas. There’s a young blonde girl and four other women.”

Just when I went to rush off, Dante gripped my shoulder. “Patience. Thomas isn’t going anywhere. We need to clear this place out.”

“I know.” Ihissed under my breath.

“Don’t risk his life if you get him out before we clear the place. These assholes need to die.”

Patience wasn’t my strong suit when I was determined, but I couldn’t fault Dante’s logic. “I know,” I repeated. “I’m focused.”

Sully patted my back and then gripped my shoulder. “I’ll go in the other direction to find me some meat toys to play with.”

“That’s fine, but we all leave at the same time, no matter how much fun you’re having.”

“Always the mood killer, Dante.Fine.”

While he wanted to play, I knew Sully would take care of as many men as he could, cleaning out the place.

Dante headed off in Thomas’s direction, and I followed close behind, my knife twirling in my fingers. I had several daggers tucked in sheaths on the strap around my thigh, and I had two guns holstered at my side.

He looked at me and pointed at the door on the right. I nodded as he went left.

I tested the doorknob; the metal was cold to the touch, and I pressed my ear to it. Soft sounds of running water on the other side could be heard. There was at least one person inside.

I turned the knob slowly, inched the door open, and peeked inside. There was a man wearing all black with a black apron, washing some tools in an industrial sink. But it was the blood that drew my attention. Were we too late?

First, I needed to take him out. I couldn’t just throw a knife and expect him to drop as they did in video games. Besides, I didn’t want these men to die quickly, anyway.

I entered the room, sneaking up behind him, keeping my eyes trained on him, and trying to ignore the body on the patient chair, bleeding out.

He whistled some tune I didn’t recognize as I approached him closer and closer. My hand itched as I wrapped my fingers around the knife. I switched hands as I reached him. I quickly placed my hand over his mouth and shoved the sharp point into his esophagus to prevent him from screaming.

He dropped his tools in the metal sink with a loud clang and fought me, but I had a strong hold on him. I pulled out my knife, warm blood coating my hand, before I slid it into his ear. His legs wobbled and wavered, his fingers clawed at me, but he quickly weakened. He screamed into my hand, fighting, struggling... It would take him a while to die yet, but he didn’t have the strength to fight me.

I eased him onto the painted concrete and let him bleed out. He gurgled on his blood, reaching for me as I stepped back to check on the victim.

I didn’t recognize him. His torso and chest had been carved open, and he was missing organs. Was that Thomas’s fate? Did they plan to harvest his organs and sell them on the black market? Just so his father could pay his debt? The red tried to consume me again, but I breathed through it.

No time. I’d let The District and Dalton handle the aftermath of this. They could track down the leaders of that particular ring.

I stepped back to the wheezing man on the floor and squatted down, dragging my blade through his blood and sweaty bangs. “You all should’ve stayed away from him. This time, you’ve crossed the wrong person. Now you’re all going to die.”

His brown eyes grew wide as he continued to gasp for air when I dragged my blade across his cheek. His fear pulled a smile from me. What would Sully do to create as much pain as possible? Pluck out an eye? Sever fingers? Cut along his forehead where nerve endings congregated close to the brain? I just wanted him to feel excruciating pain before he finally gasped his last breath, but I was running out of time.

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