HER || 18+ (Monsters #2) || Sequel to THEM

62 - Insignificant

"I don't know how to love, so I hate. And then I beg for love."
. . .

Xerxes Creed

Blood dripped down my arms, onto the ugly concrete floor. I kept my eyes focused on that, wondering why I couldn't really feel the pain.

"I can't believe you were dumb enough to come here without protection," Erick said, his dirty old leather jacket hanging from thin shoulders. He leaned down, looking me in the eyes. He smiled. "A Creed. One of the bosses." He laughed. "Oh, so many people will pay a good price for your pampered ass."

"Who?" I asked, and like the dumb fuck he was, he answered.

"Jackal," he whispered. His breath stank. "He was real close to Igor, you know?" He asked. "Worked real close to him. He was to inherit the Russian Mafiya, not that pussy ass Alexi. But then you killed Igor."

"Then should he not want to kill Alexi?"

"He does want to kill him. But you got caught, man. He's free."

I hummed. My jaw hurt. The motherfucker had landed a few punches which actually left a sting. "What's his actual name?"

"You'll find out soon enough," he said smugly. He walked to his tiny table of tools. He grabbed a knife and walked back to me. I braced myself.

He bought the knife closer to my face.

"Not the face," I snapped.

He froze, for a second, and then seemed to realize that I was the one tied to a chair. He forced out a laugh. "You're not in charge here."

We were in New York. I was in charge.

He bought the knife closer to my eye. For a moment, I almost wanted him to rip one out.

But, Olivia might cry. I wouldn't be able to see her clearly.

"Zavier," I said.

And he marched inside, a gun rolling in his hand. He pointed at Erick and shot the hand with held the knife.

He glanced at me, looking at the wounds. "How are you awake?"

"He's not really good at this." I ripped myself out of the ropes I had already loosened. "We need to interrogate him. It's someone named Jackal."

"Jackal?" He asked. "Like the fucking animal?"

"Or the name. I don't know." I looked at Samuel who was standing at the door. "Put him in the trunk."

He nodded and threw a t-shirt at me. I was almost half naked. Erick had cut through the shirt I had been wearing.

I took the shirt off, the cloth tugged at my wounds. I barely felt them. I threw the shirt away and wore the t-shirt, watching as Samuel dragged the screaming Erick out of the room.

"You need to get stitched up," Zavier said, throwing a gun at me. "You're already ruining it."

I glanced down. Blood was sweeping through the wounds. I didn't want to lose too much.

"How many did you kill?" I asked Zavier. He must have shot the whole club upstairs.

"Since when do I count?"

We walked out of the club from the back door. A car waited for me. Zavier walked to his BMW bike. "I'll see you at the mansion."

. . .

"What do you know?" I asked Michael as he entered the library. There were times when my office made me feel claustrophobic. The library was big, and the walls were mainly windows.