Shattered Vengeance (The Alderidges Book 2)

Twenty-Six: Flaws

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ARIEN

She kissed me.

All the thoughts telling me how she didn't want me came to a pause the moment she grabbed my collar and pressed her lips to mine.

She wants me. She has to.

Maybe our story didn't have an ideal start but I'll make sure it has an ideal ending. I will do anything to make her believe that she is mine.

My mood soured as I walked inside our organisation where James still stayed alive but was silently begging for death.

I nodded at my men and gestured for them to open the door leading to the room where I kept him.

As I stepped inside, I was immediately hit by the pungent smell of blood, piss and vomit.

In the middle of the room, James was on his knees, naked, his arms held up by the chains, his body covered in blood, head hung low.

On hearing me enter, his head lifted slowly, eyes half closed as he scowled at me through all the pain.

"Good sleep?" I asked, picking up one of the sharpest knives from the table.

He snarled at me, the only sound he could manage due to the lack of energy.

"Nothing to say today?" I mocked walking closer to him.

Crouching in front of him, I placed the tip of the knife under his chin and lifted his face with it. "Where is your father?"

In response, he spit out blood at me which fell on my brand-new t-shirt.

Deciding to ignore that, I questioned him again. "I need Horace's location."

"What's the point of all this? Even if you kill us both, it won't change the fact that your family's dead and your dreams are ruined--"

I backhanded him so hard that a tooth fell out of his mouth, his face twisting with pain as he refused to scream.

Giving him a cold smile, I grabbed his hand, his thumb already gone as I placed the knife against his index finger. "Tell me."

When he didn't speak, with a quick flick of my wrist, I cut off his index finger too.

This time he did scream and it was like music to my ears.

.
.
.

There was blood on my clothes and maybe a little on my face too which was confirmed by Aunty's gasp of horror.

"Not mine," I assured her as she rushed to my side.

"Sit down", she told me, pointing to the couch and I took a seat.

"Still no answer?" Uncle asked from where he sat opposite me.

I shook my head.

One of the maids brought a wet towel and Aunty took it from her and started to wipe my face with it as if I was a little kid.

"I'm thirty-two years old," I grumbled to her.

That earned me a light smack on my shoulder. "Shut up."

Uncle chuckled softly, watching us both.

She was my mom's elder sister and their features were quite similar making me think of her every time I looked at Aunty. Deep down, I had this urge to call her mom but I suppressed it.