Vow to Protect (Vow To Protect 1)

He stares down his men. “Everyone else, get ready. We leave in fifteen minutes.”

When he turns to face me, it’s not the beauty winning today, it’s the brutality, and Sal is going to feel the brunt of it.

I think about it for a moment and find I don’t care one bit. This is what I bargained my life away for, and I’m finally going to get the revenge I’m owed.

The revenge Rose is owed.

33

Adrian

I feel like a fucking idiot as I stare down the wooden dock toward the boats. Why didn’t it occur to me to check if his family owned a boat? Of course he’d want to hide somewhere that offers a quick escape. Which is why my team and I sit here in the dark, car off, as the temperature inside the vehicle warms up without the A/C on.

If he saw us coming, I want him to settle back down, think everything is fine. That the black SUV we rolled up in is just another asshole with a too big boat out here in the middle of nowhere.

I owed Diavolo big for this tip or his coercion of my ex in telling me. Either way, I won’t forget it if he ever needs something from me. With the object of this hunt so close, adrenaline is pumping through my system. I’m buzzing with it, and the anger is still festering from watching the fucking video he sent Val. I’m going to pluck out his eyeballs because he’s seen her naked without her consent. I’m going to rip off his dick and throw it overboard before I drag my knife across his throat. A quick bullet is too good for him. I want him to suffer. I want him to hurt.

It won’t make up for everything he’s done to her, but at the very least if she asks me, I can tell her I made him scream before I put him out of his misery.

Andrea is my sniper today. Her small form is laid flat on top of a nearby boat. When she gives the signal, we all climb out of the car and head toward his yacht.

“If you find him, don’t hurt him. That will be my pleasure. Hold him, incapacitate him, but nothing else.” I meet the hard stares around the group. Everyone is ready for this. I’m fucking ready for this.

We ease up the dock, our boots silent and steady. We’ve done things like this a hundred times, a thousand times, and we move as one. It’s why they are my five and no one else compares.

It only takes a few minutes to board the boat and find the hall leading up to the level he’s lounging on. I motion at Vincent, who will grab him and drag him inside, so we don’t have an audience. Alexie will find any staff on board and pay them well to take the day off. A part of me wonders if that’s what Sal did the night he attacked Valentina. Paid everyone to look the other way.

The problem with sinning is…you must be ready to face the fallout. I’m more than ready to watch Sal’s blood stain my clothing, my hands, all of it.

We ease into the bedroom with the balcony he’s currently lounging on. I drag two chairs into the center of the room, pull my knife from my boot and hold it over my knee, then sit in one of the chairs and wait. A few seconds later, Vincent enters from the balcony, dragging a struggling Sal with him.

I wait until Vincent has him secured to the chair, the entire time staring down the scum who thinks beating on women will make him more of a man. Or maybe it was just her he liked to beat on because he couldn’t fuck her like he imagined. Maybe when it came time to finish things, he couldn’t get it up. That thought bolsters me as I lean forward, bracing my elbows on my knees.

“Hello Sal, I’ve been looking for you. You are surprisingly good at hiding. But what else can I expect from a fucking rat like you?”

Sal struggles against the ropes, but it’s useless. He won’t get free unless someone cuts him out of the bindings.

I wave my guys away. “Secure the perimeter and give us some privacy. We need to have a little chat.”

They scatter as ordered, and Sal almost looks ready to piss himself and beg them to come back. If they only knew how much my men would enjoy helping me carve him up.

I lean forward, close enough now to touch him and trace the edge of my knife along the side of one cheek. My weapons are always honed, and he whimpers before the blood wells up and slides down his face, ruby red on his now bleached skin.