Page 39 of Merciless

He reaches over the bar and snatches up a bottle of vodka. “Nothing she didn’t deserve.”

With a roar, I’m across the space between us, lunging at him and wrapping my hand around his throat, holding him tight against the bar. Before I can reel the demon in, I snatch the bottle from his grip and smash it down on the bar top, glass and liquor exploding everywhere. I shove the shattered bottom half of the bottle at him, just inches from his face. “Talk now, or those wounds are just gonna be the start of it, motherfucker!”

I feel Runner at my right side in the next beat. “He ain’t kidding. Said you know who he is, then you know he’s got one hell of a rep for being a merciless bastard. It ain’t just rumors neither.”

He ain’t wrong. It’s just been a while since I’ve unleashed that side of me in all its destructive glory. With all this coming at me right now, though, is looking like that’s all gonna change. Real soon.

“They took her,” the guy tells me on a croak against my constricting hold.

My gut clenches. “You’re sure? You saw it?” I push, easing my grip around his throat a little so he can speak more easily.

“Yeah. Saw the whole thing. Lucky bitch just got sedated, no injuries to speak of.”

What?

Runner and I exchange a look. That ain’t the way the Gatekeepers do things. They ain’t exactly known for holding back. They like to leave their mark.

“Call her a bitch again,” I seethe right in his face. “I fucking dare you.”

He glares at me for a moment, trying to hold his own. But it pales in the next moment, and he lowers his gaze.

“How long ago?” Runner cuts in.

“A couple of hours, give or take.”

That’s way too long to try to head them off.

It’s too late.

“What else?” I demand, shaking him roughly.

“They… uh… they said she was bait.”

“What?”

“I thought they were here to kill her for not taking you out. I thought that was why they wanted me to lure her here and stall her, but they lied.”

A roar tears from my throat and I can’t hold back as I pistol whip him across the side of his face. “You caused this?” I thunder. “You’re the reason they took her?” I slam what’s left of the broken bottle down, glass raining down everywhere, all over his clothes, shards slicing into his face, making him hiss.

That’s just the start of where this is going.

“No,” he chokes. “You caused it. She was protecting you.”

Guilt.

He’s trying to shove a load of guilt down my throat.

Real bad call on his part, because I don’t deal with guilt like normal people.

I tear right through it, decimate it, until there’s nothing left but ash.

The best way to do that is through no-holds-barred violence.

And that’s just what I need right now, to inflict some major damage and pain.

In the next second, I shove my gun into the wound at his side, grinding it down brutally.

He bucks against me, screaming shrilly.

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