The Scotch Series: The Complete Series (Scotch #1-3) - Penelope Sky Page 0,289

hide my shock, but my face wouldn’t cooperate. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. There was no way this was legal. How did the Italian authorities not understand what was going on? How did they not catch him? The only explanation I could come up with was a bribe. He must have paid them off.

Bones walked me farther into the factory, not acknowledging his employees as he moved. They didn’t look at him either, even though they knew exactly who he was. We passed different assembly areas, weaving through several sections. The heat from the factory was uncomfortable. My coat felt too heavy as the humidity stuck to me. Ash was in the air, and it burned my lungs with every breath I took. The workers were in the poorest conditions I’d ever seen.

We rounded a corner and reached a room where men sat along a table. With small brushes, they painted every detail on the metal of the assembled guns, touching up imperfections and making them available for distribution. Masks covered their faces so they didn’t inhale paint fumes. Since there was so much filth in the air, what did it matter?

One man sat with his head down at the table. He didn’t seem to be tired, but broken. His hand still gripped the brush while the other rested in a bowl of black paint.

Was he okay?

Bones spotted him, and the mirthless glare he showed was enough to get everyone’s attention. The men glanced at him but kept working, doing their best to keep their heads down and go unnoticed.

Bones left my side and approached the man slumped over the table. He grabbed him by the shoulder and jerked him harshly. In Italian, he screamed in his face.

I didn’t speak Italian and couldn’t recognize a single word. But I didn’t need to understand the language to know what was being said. Bones’s face turned blood red as he screamed into the man’s face. It reminded me of the times he screamed at me, just before he smacked me hard across the face.

Bones grabbed him by the collar and dragged him onto the ground. He pressed his dirty boot against the man’s head and forced it against the concrete.

Like nothing was going on, the other men continued working. The sound of machines working never faded from the background. The pistons still compressed air, and the conveyer belts still hummed. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

Bones pulled out a pistol and pointed it at the man’s head, still screaming in Italian.

My first reaction was to intervene and protect the poor man lying on the floor. But that would blow my cover and probably get me killed as well. There was nothing I could do but stand back and hope this ended in a nonviolent way.

But it didn’t.

Bones shot him right in the head. A pool of blood instantly formed underneath the body, and the man’s eyes remained rigidly open.

I flinched slightly as the sound echoed off the walls. I felt sick to my stomach. The nausea burned up my throat, and I wanted to pass out. My mind was disturbed, more disturbed by murder than all the terrifying things he did to me. But I had to keep a straight face. I had to keep moving forward. Otherwise, I would never get out. I had to focus on survival.

He blew on the smoking gun before he inserted it into the back of his waistband. He stepped over the body like it wasn’t there then returned to me, appraising my face for a reaction.

I held his gaze and remained as stoic as possible, unsure what kind of reaction he wanted.

“That’s power.” He spoke over the sound of the factory, not caring about the other workers eavesdropping on what he said. “I felt no remorse or guilt. I pulled the trigger and felt good doing it.” He echoed my own words back at me, but he missed the context entirely.

I shot someone to survive—not to be a fucking asshole.

He nodded to the workers who didn’t break their stride during the commotion. They focused on their tasks, ignoring the dead body oozing out blood. “And they keep on working because they know what happens when they step out of line.”

That wasn’t power. That was ruling by fear. Big difference.

“The road to absolute power isn’t an easy one. But when you get there, the world bows to you.”

I will never bow to you.

He grabbed my arm and guided me from the room.

I let him