Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)(51)

“Enough!” Gerald demanded, throwing the goblet at my head.

I ducked, encroaching on his space. “Tell me where she is. Je ne le redemanderais pas.” I won’t ask again.

Gerald laughed, his big gut jiggling with every guffaw. “Why the hell would I know?” His eyes went from mirthful to hate-filled in a second. His entire body settled heavier in the chair as he glared at me from beneath his overhanging brow. “You shot my only son for sampling the present we gave you. Not exactly hospitable behaviour.”

My jaw ached I clenched so hard, but I didn’t move; I didn’t speak. I let him get on with his little f*cking speech. The sooner he finished, the sooner I could get my hands on Tess.

“I had planned on using her myself—after all, the great f*cking Q Mercer kept her as a pet, there must be something special about her cunt to warrant such a prize.”

I flinched and gripped the gun harder, imagining it was his fat-riddled neck I wrung.

“However, a better deal came along than f*cking your sloppy seconds.”

My legs spasmed, dying to rush the bastard and slash the knife into his throat. My voice echoed with hatred. “Stop wasting my time.” I aimed the gun at his crotch. “Where is she, Dubolazov?”

Gerald laughed and wheezed, before answering. “That, my *-whipped friend, is no longer your concern. I like keeping secrets. Consider this my notice that I will no longer do business with you.” He looked at his oaf of a son, huddled by the wall, nursing his bruised face. “After all, I can’t deal with a man who severely injured my own, can I?”

Something slithered over me. Something cold and sinister and normally I would fight. I would stop the shutting down of my emotions and the remainder of humanity receding like a wakeless tide, but I didn’t. I let the conversion happen, and the gun grew heavy in my hands.

Did he honestly think I wouldn’t kill him if he had nothing to offer me?

Dubolazov seemed to track my line of thought as he swallowed, a trace of fear ringing his eyes. “You can’t kill me. It would be business suicide. You so much as look at myself or my son again and I’ll crucify you.”

I shrugged. I honestly didn’t care. All I cared about was finding Tess and giving her the best life I could.

Shuffling sounded behind me and Franco yelled, “Stay right f*cking there. Just having a conversation, boys. No need to get your cocks out.”

I looked over my shoulder at the three guards who’d arrived, all waving guns, trying to decide who to train their sights on. Deciding I was the greatest threat, they pointed the muzzles in my direction, even as Franco and Frederick trained theirs on them.

Raising an eyebrow, I held up my gun, letting it dangle from my finger. “All good. Just finishing up our little chat, then we’ll go.”

No one moved as I placed the gun on a side table and inched forward.

Gerald glared, but didn’t order the men to kill me.

I stopped within grabbing distance and gave him a thin smile. “So, you mean to take your secret to your grave, Dubolazov?”

One chance.

One last chance to give me Tess’s location. Then I’d grant mercy. I would walk away. I would cage the demon inside me and not f*cking maim him.

He leaned forward, sending a whiff of vodka into my face. “I’ll never tell a f*cking prick like you. You pretend to be one of us, but you free merchandise. Slaves we’ve dedicated time to break, women who, by right, belong to us until their godforsaken little pussies wear out. Fuck you, Mercer. We’re done here.” He lowered his voice to a hiss. “I hope she’s dead already.”

The switch inside sprung permanently free, and I moved.

Time slowed as I reached for the knife in my trousers. I existed in slow motion as the blade came free, my arm swung forward, and the obstruction of gristle and windpipe gave way under the sharp metal.

The thrill, the rush, the heady f*cking pleasure rippled through me and I smiled. I f*cking smiled as I watched Gerald blink in shock, wondering what the hell happened.

I moved so fast, it took a moment for blood to well and cascade down his throat.

“No!” Gerald’s son threw himself off the wall, colliding with me.

Gunshots rang out and something hot nicked my arm. Franco called out, and Frederick yelled. Gerald’s son punched me in the ribs, but his meaty hands were no match for my blade.

I stabbed him deep in the kidney and twisted.

I waited for horror, for self-hatred of loving the hot splash of blood and the dying gurgle of my victim, but for once I was free.

The rush and fire and righteousness doused my veins; I shuddered with black delight.

Murder.

It was fast becoming a new hobby of mine.

I stood, pushing the convulsing body off me, drenched in hot blood. I honoured Tess’s wish to bring down the bastards involved with trafficking.

I killed a father and son.

I killed…

And the beast inside f*cking loved it.

The memory of taking my father’s life filled my nostrils. The stench of his bowels loosening, the sharp tang of blood and brain. It all mixed in some sort of morbid perfume, resonating with the feral part of me, making me proud to be a killer of evil.

Slowly sensation came back into my body. My arm burned. Twisting my neck, I fingered the hole in my blazer, poking the slippery wound beneath. Fucking fantastic.