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 radiates out of me. “Don’t tempt me,” I spit through my teeth, barely holding on.
Preston scoffs as a wicked grin pulls up the corner of his lips, showing off the blood that coats what few teeth he has left. “Do it. What are you waiting for? Kill me. Take Dante’s gun out of the back of his jeans and put a bullet right through my skull. I know you want to.”
I laugh, raising my chin as I feel Carver stepping closer into my back with his fingertip just barely grazing my waist, somehow giving me the strength not to back down. “Tell me who you’re working with and I’ll happily end your pathetic life. Hell, I might even enjoy it.”
A cocky smirk twists across his face, thinking that he has the upper hand in this twisted game, thinking that I won’t kill him without getting what I need. “And if I don’t?”
I stare straight into his eyes, letting the seriousness take over as he sees just how fucking desperate I am. “I’m going to drag your ass back downstairs and you and I are going to make a nice little movie. I’m going to hit record and then with the blunt razor that I’m going to take out of the back of my bathroom drawer, I’m going to hack off every single one of your fingers while listening to the sweet poetic sound of your screams. But beware, I’ve never done it before, and I have a feeling that slicing through bone isn’t going to be easy … it might take a little while.”