Page 68 of Cain
No pain.
I turn around and see the man who had been pointing the gun at me, now with a bullet between his eyes, lying on the ground. I don’t react. I want to scream and let it all out, but I choke all my feelings down and try to remain calm. He just killed his man. So easily, without even thinking twice.
“What?” I gasp in surprise, raising my eyes to see Cain holding a gun, smoke still curling from its muzzle.
“Boss?” the second man gasps in fear. Sweat trickles down his temples, and his eyes widen as he watches Cain amble toward us. He looks calm. Calm yet furious. His steps are fast and steady. “I can explain.”
“The only reason I’m not killing you right now is because you have to clean this mess,” Cain spits, his eyes locked on mine.
I can’t look away. His intense, dark gaze holds me captive, trapping me in place. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t break free. My heart rate steadies, and my breathing is no longer hitched.
“I-I told him?—”
“Shut the fuck up!” Cain barks, giving him a sidelong glance. “I don’t give a damn what you told him. If you don’t wanna end up like that piece of shit, grab him and dump his worthless ass somewhere.”
“But what about?—”
Cain shoots him in the thigh without hesitation.
“Fuck!” The guy screams in agony, spitting and turning all red.
“Stop this,” I cry.
“You could’ve avoided this. Now get your ass moving and do what I told you while you’re dragging that useless limp behind you.”
The man clenches his jaw, but not out of anger. He’s scared. Terrified, to be exact. He takes a deep breath and grabs the dead man’s legs, groaning in pain.
“Let’s go home,” Cain says calmly, his eyes returning to mine.
“It’s not home,” I wail. “It’s not my home!”
He tilts his head to the side and exhales deeply. Without a word, he grabs me, lifts me effortlessly, and tosses me over his shoulder, ignoring my protests.
“Let me go! Now!” I hit his back, but he doesn’t seem to flinch.
“I will soon, little rose,” he says, walking toward the entrance.
He’s walking through the mansion slowly and calmly, holding his gun in one hand and me on his shoulder. I protest, I hit him, and I yank myself as hard as I can, but nothing works. Eventually, I stop trying to break free from him and allow him to carry me to my room.
I knew this would happen.
I knew he would catch me and drag me back.
We finally arrive at my bedroom. Slowly, he lets me down on the ground.
“Here. All new.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” I shout.
“I am Cain Manson. Owner of the Manson Seaways,” he jeers, a wicked smirk spreading across his face. “My ships rule these waters; my word bends men to their knees, and my patience … well, I never had much of that to begin with.”
I glare at him. I take a deep breath, steady myself, and determinedly, I finally speak.
“Sounds exhausting,” I hiss, raising a brow. “All that power, all that control … yet here you are, wasting your breath trying to impress me.” I step closer, tilting my chin up defiantly. “Tell me, Cain. Do they kneel because they respect you, or because they’re too afraid to face you?”
He takes a step closer, reducing the space between us, and looks down at me. “Respect is a luxury I don’t need. Fear, on the other hand, is a currency I deal in.”
I scoff and shake my head. There’s no reason to keep arguing with him. He won’t let me go anyway.
