Page 52 of Cain
I pull the plastic bag just enough to show him what’s hiding inside, behind the thick blood that has covered it.
A choked noise leaves Torres’s throat. He knows who it is.
I smile.
“You remember Maxwell, right?” I murmur, studying Torres’s face. “The man you sent sniffing through my shipments. The one you paid to betray me. One ofmymen.”
I stand again, slow and predatory. “Tell me … did he give you anything at all before I got to him? Before I tore him open and showed you what he really was?”
Torres swallows hard, his hands curling into fists. “He was just a scumbag who got a taste for money. He was the wrong piece of shit to ever do business with from the start.”
I click my tongue and shake my head.
I step forward, my eyes nailed on his. “You see, Torres, this isn’t some bullshit trade. This isn’t some damn deal. This is my kingdom, and I’m the fucking god running it.” I nod at Maxwell’s head at his feet. “And this is what happens to those who forget that.”
Torres is silent. His chest doesn’t rise, as if he’s already dead.
Good boy.
I smile again, but there’s nothing kind about it.
“Now—you were talking about an empire?” I say softly, tilting my head.
Torres swallows hard. His hands twitch at his sides, and his usual arrogance fades.
“This wasn’t personal,” he says, his voice rough. Busted, big boy. “Business. You understand that, don’t you?”
I arch a brow, amused. “Oh, I do.” I take a slow step forward, watching him flinch. “Which is exactly why you should’ve handled your business better.”
His gaze flickers past me, landing on one of his men. A thick-necked enforcer standing just behind my right shoulder.
“Now,” Torres orders sharply.
The enforcer doesn’t move. His fingers twitch near the holster at his hip, but he doesn’t draw. Instead, he smirks.
He realizes it too late. His face tightens. “You?—”
“Paid him more,” I finish for him.
The enforcer’s smirk broadens. Then, he steps back out of the way.
He barely has time to curse before the air explodes with gunfire. More of his men run inside from the corridors. They hold their weapons, barking orders and firing wildly.
I walk closer to him, making him take a few steps back. He’s not as trained as I am.
One of Torres’s men swings a gun at me. I grab his wrist and twist it hard. His bone cracks, and the gun clatters to the ground. Another idiot lunges at me. I kick his knee sideways, hear it pop, and he drops, screaming like a stuck pig.
Through all of it, I don’t take my eyes off Torres. If that bastard did business with that cockroach Maxwell, he might know something about those damn cufflinks or how the fuck he got them.
He’s backing away. Panic creeps into his eyes. His hand fumbles for a pistol at his belt, but his fingers shake too much to get a grip.
I smile wickedly. He turns to run, but I catch him easily. I grab his collar and yank him back, spinning him around to face me.
“I can explain!” He falters.
“How cute to think you can run away from me,” I growl.
His eyes are wide, his jaw clenched tight. “You don’t—” He gasps, trying to gather his words. “You don’t understand. This … this was bigger than both of us. I had no choice!” He trembles. “It’shisfault.”
