Page 108 of Addicted
“Pleased to finally make your acquaintance, sir,” Rook states, letting go of Lark’s hand as he walks up to Adam, hand extended. Suddenly, several guns are pointed at him, but he doesn’t flinch, just pauses, his hand still held in front of him. Lark takes a step forward, but Aeron holds his arm out across her chest, stopping her. She glares at him adorably and I know that she has just earned a few spanks with that look.
Adam gives Rook a once-over, a small smile dancing around his lips that tells me he’s impressed with the kid, and then reaches out with his hand, giving Rook’s a firm shake. The Tailors lower their guns and our bird sags a little, her breath leaving her in a puff. I mean, there was always the possibility of them shooting Rook on account of who his father is, but Adam gave his word to Aeron and he doesn’t break a promise lightly.
“Nice to meet you, son,” he replies in a deep tone, and I can see the approval in the glint of his deep blue eyes.
“Fucking traitor!” Rufus snarls, jerking as if to stand up, but a swift kick to the ribs by one of the Tailors in front of him has him rocking back down onto his knees, wheezing.
“It takes great courage to face your enemy and hold out the hand of peace, Rufus,” Adam muses, still holding Rook’s hand as he continues to survey the boy, then his gaze flits over to us. “Something that the younger generation seems to be teaching us.”
“Fucking hippie bullshit!” Rufus growls again, and the rest of us walk over so that we’re all facing him.
“Maybe,” Adam answers, finally releasing Rook’s hand only to step in line with the rest of us and sweeping his arm out as he indicates Rook and Lark. “But look which one of us appears to be winning.”
“You can take that worthless fucking whore! She’s all used up just like her slut of a mother was!” Rufus spits, looking at my Little Bird with a curl to his lip, his blue eyes full of loathing.
“You motherfucking cunt!” Rook snaps, going to leap forward, but Adam holds him back.
However, no one holds Lark back as she suddenly slams a massive fucking knife into Rufus’ stomach. None of us intervene, and I know I’m not the only one turned the fuck on by her savagery. Jude doesn’t even bother to hide the fact that he just adjusted himself.
“Who’s useless now,father?” she hisses, pulling the knife out with a wet sucking noise. A gush of blood seeps from the wound and coats her delicate hand as she stands up, looking down at him as if he were a piece of dog shit, and pride makes my chest swell, my injured ribs tweaking but I don’t give a fuck. This woman is all kinds of badass.
“Fuck, Nightingale, that was so fucking hot,” Jude moans, and I roll my eyes as he tugs her close and buries his face in her neck, inhaling deeply. I mean, he’s not wrong. My dick is pressing against my trousers at the sight of her father’s blood dripping down her arm.
“B–bitch,” Rufus gurgles, a trail of blood leaving his thin lips which are rapidly losing color. The stomach wound won’t kill him quickly, but it will hurt like a son of a bitch until then.
“And fucking proud of it,” she sasses back while handing Jude his knife. I’m impressed she could take it from him soquickly in the first place. Although knowing him, he let her just for shits and giggles.
“Much as I would love to spend hours torturing you, Rufus,” Aeron drawls, checking his gun. “I have far better things to be doing. Rook.” He hands the gun to Rook, and I see the surrounding Tailors stiffen, but Adam holds his hand up to make them pause, and like the obedient soldiers they are, they do. Adam doesn’t try to take his own revenge, but one look at the way he’s staring at Rook tells me he knows the boy needs this more than he does. That’s the thing about Adam, he can set aside his own needs for those he cares about or considers family, and it seems like he’s taken Lark and her brother under his wing just like he did Tarl and I all those years ago.
Rook takes the gun, not a tremor in his hand as he checks its weight. Seems Rufus taught the boy something worthwhile at least. Then he raises it, looking down the barrel which he has pressed right between Rufus’s eyes.
“Know that with your death the Soldiers will be born again and you will fade from memory like a stain that is painted over, never to be remembered and forgotten like yesterday’s news.”
Rufus opens his mouth as if to respond, but Rook doesn’t give him the chance, just pulls the trigger without so much as a flinch. Then he swings the gun to the next Soldier and shoots him, moving down the kneeled men until the only one left is a massive motherfucker with a scarred-up face.
“That’s enough, Rook,” Aeron commands firmly, and I take a moment to realize that this is Dean, the cunt who hurt our Little Bird. Rage coats my insides, making my vision narrow down to that man, and it’s as though I’ve the strength of a hundred men running through my veins.
Rook takes his finger off the trigger immediately, pointing the gun down at the ground, his chest heaving.
“Well done, son,” Adam commends, his hand coming up to rest on Rook’s shoulder. Aeron takes the gun out of Rook’s grip, giving the younger man a nod when he looks up at him.
“You did good, but this fucker is ours.” Aeron’s voice is darkness incarnate, and Rook casts a glance over at Dean, his gaze hardening as notes who this is. Lark must have told him some of what happened, as the boy’s cheeks flush and his nostrils flare.
“Make it fucking hurt,” he grits out in a hoarse whisper, like he’s just run a marathon. I guess I can’t blame him considering he’s just annihilated his father’s gang. A gang that he stands to inherit, and now has significantly fewer members than it did this morning.
“Come on, son,” Adam encourages, using his grip on Rook’s shoulder to lead him towards the main entrance doorway. “Let’s leave these boys to it and you can tell me all of your plans for the Soldiers and how we can work together.”
Rook’s eyes widen slightly, and Adam chuckles, seeing the slight look of disbelief on the boy’s face.
The rest of the Tailors leave with them, bar a couple who stay behind, just outside the door, to keep watch over us so we can fully concentrate on our work.
“You should go too,Azizam,” Tarl suggests to Lark softly, but she just shakes her head vehemently, taking a deep, trembling inhale.
“I want to watch him hurt, the way he made me hurt,” she tells him, her gaze full of cobalt fire that has my already hard cock becoming almost painfully solid.
My stomach drops at her words, the banked anger inside me making my beast purr even as I worry about what she’ll think after she sees us all at our worst.
Tarl heaves a sigh. “I’m worried that you’ll look at me, look atusdifferently after this,” he confesses, his voice just abovea whisper but I hear it all the same, his words echoing my thoughts.
