Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)(72)

Frederick froze, watching me carefully. “She’s yours, man, I get it. She’ll always be yours. I’m just keeping her safe for you while you avenge her honour.”

It took everything I had to relax my grip and nod.

I held out my hand to Franco, who stood to my right. “Give me the pliers, Franco.”

Frederick sucked in a breath and stepped hastily back, cradling Tess’s head on his shoulder. Immediately Franco obeyed, passing over the tools used to break my woman’s finger.

I stalked forward until I loomed over the line-up of traffickers. The psychopath woman stiffened—too stupid to be afraid. “Cut her ropes and stand her up.”

Franco obeyed without question, slicing through the binding. Grabbing her long black hair, he hoisted her to her feet. Her nostrils flared above her gag and the first sign of fear glimmered in her gaze.

Franco wrapped his large arm around her shoulders, keeping her in place.

I inched closer, tapping the pliers in my hands. “How does it feel to be a traitor to your own sex? Do you enjoy it?”

She glared, tilting her chin in defiance.

Smiling coldly, I placed the pliers in my pocket and reached to my waistband. I pulled free the knife I’d used to kill the Wolverine and his son. The hilt felt righteous in my grip, urging me on. Using the tip of the exceedingly sharp blade, I sliced through the duct tape. She flinched as I nicked her and a small line of red appeared.

I had to hear her reasoning before she died. I had to understand what drove people to such things.

Spitting out the burlap sack, she hissed, “Go to hell, *. I see you for what you are. You think because you wear a fancy suit you are different to us. You’re lying. You’re the one who wants to hurt and sell women.”

Not the answer I wanted.

I backhanded her. Her head snapped sideways and she stumbled.

Frederick moved further away, protecting Tess in his arms.

“Do you believe in redemption, cunt?” My voice was detached, killer-cold, precise.

She pursed her lips, denying me an answer.

I belted her around the ear. She muttered, “Yes. I will be forgiven.”

My lips curled in a snarl. I grabbed her hand, jerking it forward. She struggled, but it made no difference. Franco held out his palm to take my knife while I grabbed the pliers from my pocket. In one fast move, I inserted her finger into the nasty tool.

She sucked in a breath, wriggling in Franco’s grip, but it was no use.

I whispered, “I’m taking your life. You will die and become nothing. Not even a speck of thought, or whisper of second chance. I want you to know that as I take your life, I’m cursing you to the bowels of the underworld. I’m wrapping you in curses so your soul will never rise again.”

My hand twisted the pliers and she let out an ungodly scream. Her finger gave way as I snapped the bone and Franco pushed her away from him. He tossed me the knife and in one short slice, I cut her jugular. Just like Wolverine.

For one millisecond her neck stayed intact, then her flesh gaped open in a red angry gash, spurting my chest with red glowing blood. Hot and tangy, it spewed as if it couldn't stand to be in her body any longer.

Her hands flew to her throat, her finger bent to a horrible extreme, trying to staunch the blood. She gurgled rather than screamed.

Her rapidly beating heart hastened her death as litres of crimson evicted through the cut.

The bound and gagged traffickers all froze, staring in horrified realization. The realization that there would be no walking away from me. That they’d met their f*cking maker and had minutes left to live.

The woman toppled to her knees, before crashing onto her face as the last pump of life-force drenched the concrete.

She twitched her last. My voice rang loud and clear. “Your blood will mingle today. All of you. You worked together, you’ll die together.”

I looked to Franco, who nodded.

“Gentlemen,” he said to his team. Instantly, the black-clad mercenaries ringing the space unholstered their guns.

Shaking my head, I said, “Too impersonal.” Holding up the bloody knife, I added, “No guns.”

“You heard him. Put your guns down,” Franco snapped. The sound of knives being pulled free from scabbards hissed around the room.

I pointed at the f*cking ringleader in his pouncy blue shirt. “Not him.” Then I looked at the naked f*ck who’d raped the blonde girl. “Him either. Both are mine.”

The mercenaries moved forward, standing behind a victim. Blair, one of Franco’s trusted men who looked like a Norwegian god of war, placed his knife across a trafficker’s throat, his shoulder tense and ready.

Darkness yowled inside, swarming thick and fast; I let myself be consumed. This is for you, Tess.

I never felt the need to be so barbaric, but the beast called the shots. And it wanted blood. It wanted an Olympic swimming pool filled with blood.

“Joined together in death, you will be entwined in purgatory. I have no mercy for you.” My eyes met Franco’s. “Do it.”

It was a morbid floor show gone horribly wrong as the mercenaries severed their victim’s neck in one swoop. Dying bleats and prayers smothered by their gags.

Waterfalls of red gushed forth, splashing wetly against the concrete. One by one their bodies twitched and convulsed, sending blood from veins to floor.

Franco moved closer and mumbled in my ear. “Can I have the rapist?” His eyes flashed black, and I felt a camaraderie like never before. Monster to monster.