Page 43 of Rose
“Comfortable?” Khaos asked, voice low, almost amused.
Bernard swallowed, but didn’t answer.
“Didn’t think so.”
Khaos leaned back, one arm slung over the couch as the documentary played on. But this wasn’t about TV.
This was thelesson.
And class had just begun.
“You looked at the wrong woman today, Bernard,” Khaos said low, voice steady as stone. Still didn’t look at him.
“And you did more than look,” he added, his tone sharpening like a blade. “You tried to get her number... couldn’t take no for an answer. And did it all in front of her husband.”
He knew how insane that sounded. Khaos wasn’t her husband. Hell, he barely knew anything about her besides her name and that she was Mazi’s sister. But that didn’t matter. Ever since he laid eyes on her through the barbershop glass, she’d been stuck in his chest like a bullet that never came out. When he held her in his arms, felt her tremble, saw those tears streak her face—something in him cracked open.
And now? He was about to kill a man over her.
That thought alone should’ve made him stop.
But it didn’t.
Where the fuck did she come from? What happened to her? What’s her favorite color? Her story? Her ring size?
“My bad... I-I didn’t know she was your bit—”
BANG.
The Glock fired before the word finished leaving his mouth. The bullet shattered his foot. His scream tore through the room, sharp and ugly, ricocheting off yellow-stained walls.
Right on cue, two of Khaos’ cleanup men walked in, calm and collected, like they’d been waiting just outside the whole time. No reaction to the screaming. No questions.
Khaos stood, pulled out his phone, and pointed the camera toward Bernard’s writhing body.
“Shut the fuck up, pussy.”
The scream faded into choked sobs, the man clutching his mangled foot, eyes wide with terror.
“Now look at the camera,” Khaos said, his voice suddenly quiet. Controlled. Dangerous. “And apologize to my wife.”
He didn’t flinch at the word.
Even his men blinked, confused—but they didn’t dare ask. Khaos’ word was law.
The phone camera lit up with a cold flash.
“I’m sorry... shit, I’m sorry,” Bernard groaned, eyes frantic.
Bang.
The second shot rang out, tearing through the other foot. Bernard’s scream pitched even higher. The video stopped.
Khaos didn’t move.
“Say her fucking name,” he growled. “You called her a bitch. That ain’t what her mother named her.”
The man blinked through his agony. “I-I don’t... I don’t know her name.”
