the violence gets him off. King has a dark side and it’s fucking terrifying, but for the most part, he has a kind, genuine heart and that’s all that should matter. It’s Carver and Grayson I need to worry about. Those two would raise hell just for something to do on a boring Sunday afternoon.
Preston sprawls across the kitchen floor, smearing his blood further and making Grayson’s face pull into a disgusted leer. “Really, man?” Grayson grumbles. “There’s blood all over the fucking kitchen.”
Carver just shrugs, bouncing his shoulder while keeping his hard stare on Scardoni. “This could all be over,” he tempts him. “Just tell me what I need to know and I might even let you say goodbye to your wife before I put a bullet through your brain.”
I bite my tongue knowing damn well that Carver’s lying. He has absolutely no intention of letting him speak to his wife. After all, a desperate man would say anything to save himself.
Preston reaches up and grips the side of the counter and with a loud, pained grunt, pulls himself up. He leans against the counter, dripping blood all over it and making my stomach churn. How the hell am I supposed to dish up my ice cream on that counter ever again?
Preston flicks his stare to me, his eyes narrowed and full of venom before slicing his gaze around the boys and finishing on Carver. “Do it. Fucking kill me now. I’ll never talk,” he says, turning that monstrous stare back at me. “Your little whore deserves what’s coming for her. She’ll never rule over this great organization. She’s going to fucking die like the pig that she is.”
I clench my jaw as my hands ball into tight fists, so tight that the brass knuckles over my fingers dig into my skin and cut deep, drawing blood. I go to step toward him when Cruz’s hand falls to my shoulder, squeezing tight and holding me back.
My stare snaps up to Cruz’s fiery one, and I hold it for a moment until he finally releases me and takes a step back, knowing that I have to handle this myself. After all, it wouldn’t be fair of me to allow the boys to continue handling my shit for me. At some point I’m going to have to stand on my own two feet and prove that this is where I belong.
I take a step toward Preston and he watches me as though I’m some kind of rabid animal, someone non-human and not worthy of respect. It instantly grinds on my nerves. If anyone around here isn’t worthy, it’s him.
“That’s all you’ve got, huh? You’re barely holding on. You’ve been here for nearly three weeks and all you’ve got is a shitty ‘whore’ comment? Well guess what? I am a whore. I’m a whore and I fucking love it. I’m living my best life, getting dicked anytime I want—night or day, three-way, four-way, solo. You name it, I get whatever the fuck I want while you’re sitting here rotting away, and guess what? No one is coming for you. They all know where you are, Preston. The whole organization sat across from Carver and accepted that you were going to die and not a damn one spoke out to save your miserable life. Who’s the fucking loser in this situation? Who’s the pathetic piece of shit? I can tell you that it’s not me,” I sneer, leaning in and letting him see the spite and deadly venom in my eyes. “You’re a joke. You’re the lowest of the lows, and I get to sleep soundly at night knowing that you will never take a step outside of this house again. Your ass is mine and I will take pleasure in ending you.”
Preston pushes up from the counter, putting himself right in front of me. “Then do it,” he growls, twisting his face into an ugly sneer and making the boys flinch behind me. “Kill me. Prove that you have what it takes. Put those pretty little hands around my throat and squeeze. DO IT. KILL ME.”
I narrow my eyes and the fucker just laughs. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he says, almost looking disappointed that I haven’t ended his miserable life just yet. “You haven’t got it. You’re weak. You’re forever going to live in Dynasty’s shadow, just like your pathetic father. You’ll never be good enough.”
My fist tightens and I feel my warm blood seeping between my fingers as my anger