Page 113 of The Mafia's Bride
Dom’sseveredhead, cut straight from his neck, the spinal cord still attached.
The urge to vomit is strong but I lock it down, grasping my chair arms like it’s my salvation. I’m used to torture, and the effects, but something about the O’Brien clan’s method doesn’t sit right in mygut. It’s barbaric, bloody and grotesque. The way they take pleasure in the act is unholy, at best.
I won’t deny I’m a little green at the sight, but it’s Roman who looks worse. Face pale, his eyes are wide, fingers digging into his thighs as if it’ll keep his lunch down.
“You killed your own blood?”
It’s accusatory. One I don’t respond to becausefuck this guy.
“No,” Killian replies happily, sliding his hands into his pockets. “He didn’t.”
Roman glares at the killer but turns toward me. “We won’t be negotiating with the De Luca family. How can we trust you to hold up your ties when you treat your family so poorly?”
Rolling my eyes, I fold my hands into my lap. “First off, Roman, you’re a fucking idiot.” I hold up one finger as if checking things off a list. Tony smirks, covering his laugh with a cough. “Second, we won’t be entertaining any contract with you. Bruno might make profits off women’s backs, but De Luca and by extension, the O’Brien clan, doesn’t. And third.” I gesture to the bloody head. “We didn’t do this.”
“Ace did,” Killian purrs, leaning forward. He seems pleased to see the color drain even further from Roman’s face. He’s ghostly white now and I take immense pleasure in it.
“Ace? Dom was taken weeks ago. This head is still bleeding.”
Killian licks his lips. “Ace was awfully upset about the treatment of her baby sister. It was almost like she was possessed. Needed to exorcise the sins. You can imagine what she might do in that kind of state.”
Ace tortured Dom for weeks in retaliation for what he did to Sloane. What he tried to do in that house. For the branding that sits, still healing, on my wife’s chest.
A fire rages inside me, burning with the last remnants of betrayal, but I smirk when I see Roman’s wheels turning. He’s doing the math, sizing up Ace’s destruction.
It’s good to be in an alliance with a psychopath.
“And then you cut his head off.”
Killian smiles and I have to fight off a flinch. The man is theReaper come to collect, a ghoul who would surely take us all to hell if it made him happy. “No.Shedid it.”
Roman stills and I can’t help it. I laugh.
He clears his throat, uneasy with this information. “There’s still the matter of what we gave Dom.”
My eyes snap to the snake’s. There’s his catch. The reason for this impromptu visit. I wouldn’t have even entertained such a thing if he hadn’t showed up and in good faith, left his guards outside. “What is that?”
“A large sum of money.” He waves his hands around. “To back his takeover. It was to be repaid with flesh once the merger was complete.”
“Flesh,” I murmur. Killian leans over the desk, a dog chomping at the leash to be let off and maul the man in front of me. “He was going to sell you, who exactly? The remaining O’Brien women?”
“You can’t think they’re so innocent.” He scoffs. “Your wife, although has been out of the papers for a few weeks, is known for letting anyone near her pussy. Collins? She appears innocent enough, but I know differently. But Ace?” His eyes glow with dark secrets. “Ace is the one a great number of people would kill to claim. You must have heard the rumors about her?”
Killian moves so quickly, a knife stabbed into the man’s shoulder, pinning him to the armchair before I can blink. Roman yells, cursing him out, but it doesn’t deter the killer.
A gun appears at his temple and the safety is off. Killian is one second away from killing the head of the rival family in Boston and spilling his blood all over my floors.
“Linwood,” I drawl, though my heart is pounding in my ears, adrenaline pooling in my fingers to grab a gun and stop this madness. If he spills blood in my office, I’ll be liable for a war I didn’t start.
Even if the bastard in front of me deserves it.
“Call off your dog,” Roman wheezes, Killian’s hand holds his throat, knuckles white. The killer barely blinks, black eyes trained on his target. He’s going to snap his thick neck before he can shoot him, if I can’t pull him back.
I shrug quietly. Standing to my full height, I button my jacket, slipping between them to lean on the desk. The picture of calm, like war isn’t about to erupt right all in front of me, I glare into the bastard’s fearful eyes.
“He’s not mine to command. You insulted his captain.” I’m playing with terms. Killian is his own person, but his loyalty has always been to Ace. “He has every right to blow your brains out all over my very expensive Italian leather chairs.”
“Gladly,” he growls.
