Page 52 of Eros
While everyone was oblivious to the Kostas name on the west coast, not the Drakos family. Even in the States, the Drakos name carried weight.
“Ahh, you have heard of us,” my father said. “I can tell by the look on your face. And to answer your question. No, I don’t give a fuck who you are,” my father hissed, taking his cigarette out, grabbing Thorne by the throat, then placing it against Thorne’s cheek. “You’ve fucked with the wrong family. And make no mistake that girl is my fucking family because she’s my son’s old lady.”
While Thorne screamed bloody murder, I stayed put and observed Thorne’s expression change from arrogance to pure terror. You’d think being tied up and surrounded by a bunch of bikers would have been enough, but I guess not.
“I think he’s understanding how much he’s fucked up, Pop,” I smirked. “Isn’t that right, Thorne?”
“Please, this wasn’t my idea,” Thorne pleaded when my father let go of his throat and stepped away. “It was hers. She wanted my daughter out of the way.”
“Roger!” she screamed. “It wasn’t me! He said we had to do it! He said Janea was a liability!”
“Both of you, shut the fuck up!” I shouted. “And she’s not your fucking daughter! Fathers don’t hire people to kill their kids!”
They both immediately stopped. It didn’t matter who put this shit in motion. In my opinion, they both were at fault.
“Please,” the girl begged. “I only did what he told me to do.”
“And you think that excuses you from all of this?” I asked. “It doesn’t.”
Her tears started again. I was tired of it.
“Was it all worth it?” I asked him.
I didn’t give a fuck about what this bitch had to say. She was involved, and he probably promised her a bunch of shit in return for her help, and although she betrayed Janea, the ultimate betrayal came from the person who was supposed to love her unconditionally. I wanted to hear what he had to say.
Tears filled his eyes, but they were in vain. You can’t trust a snake. And Roger Thorne was the worst kind of snake. He turned on his own blood for more power. More money.
“Please, just let me explain,” he pleaded. “You don’t have to do this. Is it money you want? Power? I can give you anything if you let me go.”
“Let you go?” I laughed. “This little bitch, too, Roger? Or just you?” I turned my attention to her. “You see how much he thinks of you?” I asked her, and her sobs only got louder. “Look what you gave up, and what did you got in return?” I pulled my knife from the sheath inside the waistband of jeans. “Someone who doesn’t give a fuck about you and only wants to save themselves.”
I chose to use the knife because of Janea. She was outside of the building. She didn’t need to hear the exact moment her father, and her former friend took their last breaths. She’d remember this day for the rest of her life, she didn’t need to replay the sound of gunshots in her nightmares, too.
“Please,” she pleaded when I stood inches from her. The ropes bit into her wrists, frayed and damp from sweat. A single strand of hair clung to her cheek, trembling with each shallow breath and plea she made. “I’m young. I fell in love. He used me.”
I shrugged, placing the knife against her neck. “Maybe he did use you, but I don’t care why you did it, bitch. You did it, and it hurt her. That’s all that matters to me.” Her pleas were replaced with a sharp intake of breath then the wet, stuttering gasps of air where it shouldn’t be. Fabric rustled, her body twitched as adrenaline and panic ran through her entire body.
Then nothing.
Thorne’s tears and screams boarded on hysterical at this point. A puddle of piss sat under his feet, and his clothes were drenched in sweat and piss.
“What kind of explanation do you think you can give me that will keep me from taking your life?” I ran the tip of the knife covered in his lover’s blood down his cheek, making sure to dig it in the cigarette burn my father put on his face.
His screams were like music to my ears as his skin split like butter. He deserved every bit of pain he was experiencing.
“Please…please. I’m begging you.”
“Too bad that begging doesn’t work on me.” I drove the knife into his gut, twisting the blade before pulling it out. I grabbed him by his hair, yanking his head back. “This is what love looks like,” I whispered in his ear. “You don’t ever fuck over the ones you love. You protect them, and I’m protecting her from you. You fucking pussy.”
I drove the knife under his neck, and when the blade met skin, there was no scream. Just a wet, muffled choke, the sound of air and blood colliding inside his throat.The chair rattled once, legs skittering against the floor.Then stillness.His eyes stayed open, wide, and glassy, like they were trying to understand what had happened.The color drained fast from his skin, but theexpression on his face remained, caught between disbelief and surrender. His mouth hung slightly open in pain and in a plea for mercy. A plea for mercy he would never get especially not from me.
My father’s hand landed on my shoulder. “I’m proud of you, son. This is how you protect your family. Janea is safe. Ambrose is safe. And your club is safe from him. Any regrets?”
I looked at him. “None.”
“What’s your orders, Prez?” Knox asked from where he was leaning against the wall, smoking a joint.
“Cartel killing. I don’t want them found for at least a week.”
