Page 9 of The Kingpin's Omega Lover
“Why? You don’t know me. You came for Kensley, not the rest of us.”
“I came because Kens was there, yes. But if I had known a place like the Farm existed sooner, I would have made it my life’s mission to take them down. But since I didn’t know until recently, I am now making it my mission to punish them for daring to do what they did.”
Malori’s eyes glittered in the dim light, but he didn’t cry. “But why? If you want me to trust you, Mr. King, if you want me to rest…tell me why. Please?”
More than the fear and grief in Malori’s voice and expression, King had been swayed by his sheer tenacity. By the steel behind the fear, and the direct way he stared at King. Malori had been beaten but he wasn’t broken. He was still so fucking strong.
“Technically, it’s Mr. Kingston. King is a nickname, and you’re free to use it.”
“Oh. What’s your first name?”
“Alexander.”
The new flare of anguish and fury surprised King, but it disappeared almost immediately. “Why should I trust you, King? Nothing in this world is ever free. Why should I believe that you won’t eventually want something from me in return?”
Instead of walking out of the room and leaving Malori’s question unanswered, King had stayed. Instead of insisting Dr. Melish give Malori a shot so he was well-rested for tomorrow’s journey home, King had honored Malori’s autonomy and not been another person to violate his boundaries. Instead of lying to quell Malori’s curiosity without baring his own soul, King had chosen honesty.
“Because I can empathize with your pain on some level,” King had replied, far more gently than his tumultuous thoughts should have allowed. “When I was a young boy, before Kensley was ever born, my mother was trafficked.” Malori closed his eyes, and only that brief respite from his intense, demanding gaze had allowed King one more moment of honesty. King had added, “And so was I.”
I told him something I never told anyone. Not Kensley, not Bishop, no one.
Why?
“King? King?”
Malori’s insistent question snapped King out of his reverie. “What?” King said dumbly. He’d lost track of their rooftop conversation.
“What did you do today that was so personally satisfying?”
“I had a long chat with someone who, unfortunately, did not have the information I was seeking.”
Malori stared, one eyebrow quirking. “That doesn’t sound satisfying.”
“The process was more satisfying than the information, and the end result is that he’ll never hurt anyone. Ever. Again. One more piece of shit burning in hell where he belongs.”
“You don’t believe in hell.”
King didn’t remember ever telling Malori that. Maybe Bishop had let it slip to Kensley, who’d told Malori? Did it matter? “Maybe I don’t believe in it, but it’s nice to imagine, isn’t it? That one of the men who hurt you is suffering, hanging from his wrists in a freezer, naked, with cold water being poured on his bare skin. Freezing slowly to death, piece by piece.”
Malori’s lips twisted into something very close to a smile. “I like that image. I wish I’d been there. I deserve to have been there to see it, at least once.”
“Watching a man die isn’t as easy as you think, even when you hate him. It changes you forever.”
“Like having two children ripped away from you in the middle of the night changes you forever? You put me in front of the person who made that decision, and I will cut their heart out myself.”
“I believe you.” While he and Malori shared a similar pain in past sexual abuse, King had no point of reference for the loss of one child, much less two. He had no idea what Malori had been promised during his pregnancies, the hopes he’d allowed himself, or the plans that had been destroyed, because Malori hadn’t talked to King about any of it. The only thing Malori hadknown for sure was the name of his son’s father. Or at least, the name Malori had been given.
A man whose first name was too damned close to King’s. It had taken several weeks of recovery before Malori said the name Aleks Yovenko to King, and it had made perfect sense why Malori had reacted the way he had when King first introduced himself.
Malori released a loud, angry snort. “You say you believe me, that I’ll cut a man’s heart out, but you still treat me like glass, King. Who was he?”
“You said you were only given pseudonyms for everyone.”
“Then show me his picture. You have to have one from surveillance, if nothing else.”
King almost wished he had a photo of Landau naked, turning blue, and in actual pain from having his dick half-frozen off. But King wasn’t into making digital recordings of his crimes. He’d erased everything Ziggy sent him before entering the warehouse this morning. “I can get a photo to show you,” King finally said. “No one will be looking for him around here.”
“How long did he suffer?”
