Page 270 of Phobia
“Charlie,” I say calmly, swallowing down the rage burning within. Some executions are meaningless—emotionless—but necessary. This one is personal.
“Fuck you, you fucking N-”
My free hand wraps around his jaw, forcing his mouth to remain open and stopping him from speaking. “Were you about to say what I think you were about to say?” Charlie can’t answer, but I grip harder anyway because I know exactly what was about to spew from his mouth.
“You want to call me a bastard…” I lean closer to his face. “Then, by all means, call me a bastard. Call me a monster, the fucking Devil, because I’ve earned those titles.” I shake my head, tutting. “But racism is fucking tacky.” I dig my fingers into his cheeks, forcing his tongue further out of his mouth.
My heart beats against my chest, my blood pulses, and the machete vibrates in my hand, willing me on. Watching his son get decapitated is no longer punishment enough. “The next time you think about usingthatword in my presence, I suggest you hold your tongue.”
Staring him down, I see his contempt, the truth, and in a split second, I release his jaw his grab his tongue. It’s slimy, hot, and hard to grip, but I don’t need long.
Seeing the blade coming towards him, Charlie tries to yank away, but it’s too late.
It’s like cutting through butter.
Charlie’s head falls back, but two inches of his tongue remain in my grasp. “Actually, Tommy…” I toss the lump of flesh to my right. “You hold his tongue.”
“Fucking hell, Dom.” Tommy wretches.
Dropping the machete, I clamp Charlie’s bleeding mouth closed with one hand and hold his head still with the other. Good thing I wore black tonight because I’m covered in the blood of father and son.
This is what it means to lead, to be King. In my world, there can be no respect without fear. No loyalty without devotion, and when this is over, everyone in this basement will bow at my feet.
Charlie tries to pull away from me; the blood he’s now choking on shoots out his nostrils and streams down my hand.
My first kill was a drowning. Grandad made me look into the man’s eyes as he lost the fight, and calm overtook him. In ten more seconds, it will be the same for Charlie, and I’ll look him in the eyes for as long as life remains in them.
Three… two… one. Gone.
Charlie’s head is limp in my hands. I step back, and a towel appears in front of me. Walking towards my audience… my devotees, I wipe my hands clean. Everyone looks me in the eyes, hiding their fear and showing only respect. If any of these men were thinking of fucking with me, they’ll have changed their minds.
Still, there’s one person here who’s more invested than the rest. One who’s just silently witnessed the brutal execution of his uncle and cousin. I stand before him now, looking into the brown eyes he shared with his kin. He’s pale—understandable—his light brown quiff sticking to the sweat on his forehead.
“Are we going to have a problem, Connor?”
Connor swallows, pausing for longer than I’d like before answering, “Can’t think why we would, Dom.”
Chapter 3
“You realise you have to get out of the car, right?”
Turning, I face my smirking cousin, her light brown eyes assessing me with amusement.
Thank God, she’s so patient with me.
I say nothing, and Kelly sweeps her dyed silver hair behind her ears. “She’s our cousin.”
“Technically, she’s only your cousin.” I stare ahead, trying to find something to focus on—a way to calm my rapid breaths.
I’ve been living with my aunt and uncle since I was two years old and was raised with my cousins Kelly and Ant—three and five years older than me, respectively. I’m twenty-six now, but theotheraunt has always made me feel less than welcome. A burden on her favourite brother—like it was my fault.
“Naomi.”
I turn and face a now less-than-impressed Kelly.
“Natalie has always adored you. She wants you at her baby shower.”
Baby.Just hearing the word makes my spine tingle, but Kelly’s good enough not to judge me for it. Taking my hand in hers, she holds my gaze. “Pregnancy isn’t contagious…”
