Throne of Vengeance (Throne Duet #2) - Rina Kent Page 0,81
or draw attention. He’s wearing black trousers and a plain gray T-shirt. His red beard is trimmed and his bland blue eyes are watching me as if I’m a cockroach. He’s always been the best at controlling his facial expressions.
“I have to admit,” Rolan continues, “I hadn’t thought the Russians’ sniper would show up at my door like a wee stray kitten.”
“Surprise, motherfucker.” I grin.
He narrows his eyes. I might not remember my uncle from when we lived under the same roof, but due to later research, I know he doesn’t like it when things don’t go according to his plan.
“You don’t recognize me, do you?” I scoff. “But then again, why would an old man like you recall the good ol’ days?”
I keep staring at him. If I’m already caught, might as well face him. Besides, it’s my chance to buy Flame time so he can get me out of here.
Rolan places the muzzle of his gun at my cheek, then uses it to make me show him the other side of my face. “I suspected it was ye. I thought ye’d be dead in a hole ’bout now.”
“Obviously, I’m not dead, Uncle. As I said, surprise, motherfucker.”
“Don’t call me uncle, ye filthy bastard.”
“Why? You don’t like thinking about how you murdered your own brother in cold blood?”
“I was never yer fecking uncle. Your whore mother was pregnant with ye before marrying Niall and hid it. But even when I gave my brother all the evidence to get rid of her and ye, he still had a soft spot for that fecking harlot. I had no choice but to do it myself because my brother wasn’t fit to lead us. He was too weak and didn’t deserve to be boss. I did. So I just took it.”
My mouth falls open. Did he just say Niall wasn’t my father?
Find yer father, Kyle. He’s not a ghost.
Mum’s words from the nightmare slam back to me. Could it be a warning about the truth?
“Who is he?” I ask Rolan. “Who’s my father?”
He releases a long laugh that echoes in the space around us. “Ah. Isn’t this grand? Ye lived with the Russians for years and still didn’t recognize yer father? A bastard is a bastard, after all.”
“Who the fuck is he?”
“Don’t ye worry, my lad. I already called him and gave him evidence that ye’re his boy, so if he does want ye, he’ll show up. Though, I doubt anyone wants a filthy bastard whose only use is killing from the shadows.”
“Was he the one from that night? The one who came when my mother tried to escape?”
“Probably. Yer mother was smart, but not fast enough. My idiot brother promised to protect her and ye, but she knew I’d kill ye both the first chance I got, so she decided to leave. But that didn’t turn out grand for her, did it?”
“I’m going to kill you,” I mutter through clenched teeth. “I don’t care how or when, but it’s going to happen.”
“Grand threats from a wee boy.” He taps my cheek with his gun. “Ye’re nothing, Kyle. Ye always were nothing since ye were born. I told the Russians they’d get ye once they give up territories, but here’s a secret.” He leans in to whisper. “I’ll kill ya anyway. This time, I’ll make sure ye join yer mother’s side.” He steps back and motions at his guards. “Take good care of him and make him scream.”
“Aye, boss!”
Two guards follow him, leaving me with Flame and two others.
“Guess I should start.” Flame appears bored as he heads to the table and retrieves the nail clippers, muttering under his breath. “What a pain in the arse.”
I’m actually impressed with his Irish accent; it almost sounds authentic.
He stands in front of me, his eyes gleaming with pure sadism. “Shall we, lad?”
The fucker is so engrossed in his role.
“I don’t usually waste time.” He taps the nail clippers on his hand. “I know people start with the least painful torture then go up, but I prefer hardcore stuff from the get-go. It’s more fun, innit, lads?”
The other two nod like idiots.
I glare up at him, and he hits me in the face with the device. “What are ye looking at, ye little fuck?”
I groan as pain explodes in my temple and hot liquid cascades down my face.
The fucker.
“Blood—yum.” He grins, and he’s definitely not faking it. The sick fuck does enjoy the sight of blood more than anything. “Let’s start with those pretty nails, eh?”