Scarred Regrets (Bellandi Crime Syndicate 5)

69

SCAR

Ishoved drywall and marble off my body, light pouring in through the cracks in the rubble that surrounded me.

All around me, Bellandi men clambered to their feet. My ears rang as I heaved a piece of debris off my stomach, turning over onto my belly so deep coughs could expel the dust from my lungs.

“Where’s Matteo?!” Lino yelled, his voice coming from somewhere behind me. I pushed myself to ignore it, making my choice in that moment, the one I’d somehow always known I would have to make.

Irina or the Bellandis. The love of my life or my loyalty to my family.

It was always her.

I stumbled over the rubble, racing for the missing door to the stairs as pain shot through my calf with every uneven step. The steps were all but gone, nothing but a gaping hole remaining where they’d led into the basement.

Stepping back a few strides, I turned to the ledge then took a running leap, arms and legs in motion through the air. Pain shot through my legs as I landed, bending my knees and rolling forward over the piles of rubble that broke my fall.

Sprinting forward, I ignored the pain throbbing through my body. I ignored the blood trickling down my face and pouring out of my gunshot wound.

The glass of the case protecting the old fire axe was shattered and littered on the floor as I pressed the button to open the automated sliding door. Wrapping a blood-soaked palm around the handle, I lifted it out of the case and away from the shards of glass that crunched beneath my feet.

The door opened to reveal the old, narrow tunnel. The lights flickered as I resumed my pace, running with the axe dangling at my side. Feeling more beast than man, I pushed my body to new limits.

The sounds of raised voices came through the opening, echoing off the tunnel walls.

“FUCKING BITCH!” Darragh roared with the voice pulled from my worst nightmare. The memory of him on the phone, speaking to my butterfly as if she belonged to him—

I’d make him choke on his own blood.

A cell phone clattered to the floor as the faint outline of bodies came into view, Aoife’s nails sinking into Darragh’s hands as he lifted her off her feet with his hands at her throat.

Irina swept in from behind him, launching herself onto his back and wrapping an elbow around the front of his throat. She squeezed, her face grimacing with the effort of cutting off his breath.

In the corner, Ivory guarded her daughter from the sight, using her own body as a shield in case things went south. Her mouth moved, her lips going through the motions of the song she sang Luna when she tucked her in every single night.

My eyes went back to Irina, hanging off of Darragh like her life depended on it. He dropped Aoife, the younger woman sucking in greedy drags of air as the blueness faded from her face.

“Irina!” I yelled, watching as recognition made her features come to life. Darragh turned to me, his face beaten and bruised by the women who had chosen to fight him to the death rather than go quietly. “Down!”

The command resounded between us, and she released Darragh’s neck and shoved herself off his back without hesitation.

She fell to the concrete, landing on her ass and rolling backwards to avoid a blow to her head.

In the moments before I charged into Darragh O’Brien, my chest filled with pride. She’d fought, and she’d almost fucking won.

Then I hit, knocking him straight off his feet as I tackled him to the ground. Aoife gasped, shuffling back to avoid the two of us falling on top of her.

The axe slid from my hands, gliding out of reach as I crashed into the concrete floor. My skin shredded open, the holes in my suit doing nothing to protect me from the friction of the coarse stone. I leapt to my feet, dropping my weight on top of Darragh and straddling his waist. My fist crashed into his face, a fresh spurt of blood mixing with the wound the women had given him.

Another. And another.

I beat him to a bloody pulp, turning his face into a twisted mess of unrecognizable flesh. His eyes were gone beyond the haze of red splashing all over him, his body limp and still.

But I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop.

I reached down, taking his arm in both hands, and snapped the bone. I wanted him to feel every moment of pain Irina had felt, wanted there to be enough time to shove his own cock up his ass. Watching Bradley choke on his own severed cock had brought me the sickest kind of pleasure.

“I want him breathing for what comes next,” Irina said, drawing my attention away from the mess of what had once been a man beneath me. “I want him to fucking feel it.”

She hefted the axe in her grip, using both arms to raise the heavy object, with something murderous on her face. Darragh groaned beneath me as I lifted myself from his waist, stepping out of Irina’s way.

She kicked his ankles, knocking his legs apart while Darragh raised a hand and wiped the blood from his eyes. He stared up at her, shock on his face as she positioned herself between his feet.

“No!” he screamed, trying to shuffle his broken body out of the way as Irina hefted the axe over her shoulder.

She swung, dropping it down so sharply that the steel clanged against the concrete where it landed. There was a moment of silence, a moment of absolute nothingness before Darragh screamed. His inhuman wail echoed through the tunnel, the agony in his voice tangible as Irina glanced down at the mess she’d made. At the blood splatter on her legs and against the white of her shirt.

Where Darragh had once had a cock was nothing but a tangled, bloody mess surrounding the axe as she lifted it, staring into the gap that had recently been his body.

His flesh was parted, the wound going straight through from his groin to his ass and showing the concrete beneath it.

“‘Bet you’ve never been fucked that good before’,” Irina said, taunting him with his own words, tilting her head to the side as she stared down at the dog who had once been her tormentor. He whimpered, his hands raising to cover the obscene hole in his flesh.

Irina tutted, kicking him in the hand so that it slid into his crotch as he bled out. She watched, holding his eyes as he realized who had dealt the killing blow.

Who had been the one to sever his cock from his body and tear his ass in two.

She knelt at his feet, touching two fingers to the blood coating his pants and rubbing it between them as she looked at it. When she glanced up at his face, there was something monstrous in her gaze. “Nobody feels like you,” she said, turning his words back around on him.

His eyes drifted closed, death coming for him far more quickly than I’d have liked. I wanted to own him, to make him feel every ounce of pain he’d given her.

Instead, I held out a hand to take the axe from my wife. She handed it to me willingly, rising to her feet and stepping out of the way to let me play.

“I promised my wife a gift,” I said, watching as Darragh’s eyes opened one last time. I positioned myself next to his head, swinging the axe down to sever his head from his body.

It rolled to the side as I cut through the bone and sinew of his throat, tossing the axe to the side once it had finally served its purpose. Squatting down next to the headless corpse, I grabbed the skull by the inky dark hair and lifted it. Carrying it to where Irina stood, watching with something dark glimmering in her green eyes.

I dropped it, laying it at her feet as I’d promised her weeks ago.

His head rolled across the concrete, his blank, unseeing eyes staring up at her. Her mouth twisted as she met my stare, her lips curving into a cruel, satisfied smile.

A phoenix covered in blood. A survivor with the head of her enemy at her feet.

My fucking wife.