Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)(73)

I nodded.

The gruesome death scene played out. The air grew rife with metal and rust. The sweet stench of death followed not long after as their hearts gave out.

My eyes shot to Tess still unconscious in Frederick’s arms. Her hastily wrapped finger lay broken on top of the brown scratchy blanket. Her cheek pressed against Frederick’s black polo. If anything, she looked worse than before—her skin pallid, ashen.

I needed to touch her. Affirm she was still alive and would stay that way. Stepping through the pools of blood, I headed to Frederick and placed as delicate a kiss as possible on Tess’s forehead.

Frederick held her steady, while I caressed her cheek and tried to get my heart to stop hammering against my ribs. She’s still alive.

Her blue-grey eyes flickered open, her pupils so far dilated, I was afraid the drugs in her system might kill her. But her gaze latched onto mine with intelligence, fighting hard to be free.

“Y—you’re covered in blood—” She stopped short, wheezing and whooping with racking coughs. Goddammit, I had to get her to a doctor.

Seeing her so sick sucker-punched me in the gut. I smiled gently. “Esclave. We’re leaving soon. I’m extracting revenge and then we’re going home.”

Frederick scowled. “Seriously, Q? Calling her slave at a time like this?” His look of disapproval pissed me off.

“Tu ne sais rien.” You don’t know. I tried to keep levelheaded but anger made me mutter, “Don’t judge me.” He didn’t get it. Esclave had become an endearment. Aching with tenderness, encapsulating everything that had happened between us.

Tess mumbled something incoherent and I brushed my fingertips down her feverish cheek. “Tess, what would you have me do? What sacrifice would give you closure?” I bowed my head against hers. “Tell me, esclave, and I’ll make it happen. Tell me what will halt your nightmares and bring you back to me.”

For a while she didn’t respond. Then her eyes flickered open and her voice trembled with rage. “They don’t have h—hearts. I want to see if it’s true.”

Frederick tensed. “Q…don’t take that literally.”

What a f*cking stupid thing to say. Of course I took it literally. All I could see was holding a black-threaded heart in my hands as the ringleader perished.

My eyes narrowed as Tess slipped back into limpness. She looked so innocent, so broken in her slumber, but the black part of me recognised the black part of her. How dark do you run? How alike are we truly?

Her one request told me more about Tess than any questions I could’ve asked. She wanted their hearts. She wanted the most integral part of a person—the one symbol that represented compassion and love. She wanted it carved out of the men who hurt her.

It would be my f*cking pleasure.

I stood straighter, mouth watering at granting her request.

Frederick stepped back a bit, shaking his head. “Q. Don’t. Just put an end to this and be done with it. She won’t remember.”

I snarled. “It isn’t the point that she won’t remember. It’s the fact she asked and I promised. I swore I’d lay her kidnappers’ corpses at her feet. And I mean to deliver them in pieces.”

Tess’s request echoed in my skull: A heart for a heart. A life for a life. A thrum of living for the last beat of death.

It was only fitting. Only fair. Time to deliver the heart of the man who stole her, to put the past behind.

“Leave, Roux. I don’t want you here. Take Tess back to the plane and get ready to leave.”

“You won’t be able to run from the memories if you do this, Mercer. His death will be good enough.”

“What would you f*cking do if Angelique asked you to cut off the cock of the man who raped her?”

He hung his head before answering, “I would slice off his cock and feed it to him.”

“Exactly. Goodbye, Frederick.”

He turned to leave and I raised my voice to the room. “Everyone go. Wait for us at the airport.”

The men cleaned their blades on random sacking on the conveyor belt and disappeared silently from the room.

Frederick left with Tess cradled in his embrace. Once they’d gone, I stalked back to Franco. He had the ringleader and the rapist in his grip, both bound and gagged, glaring at me.

Grabbing the ringleader’s shoulder, I said, “Do whatever you want to him. But don’t come down the back of the warehouse. I’ll return when I’m done.”

“Understood.”

We went our separate ways, and the ringleader struggled as I pushed him toward the gloom. It wasn’t far to the back, but it was deep in shadows. Perfect.

I threw him at the conveyer belt.

He twisted to face me, eyes flaring wide, trying to articulate around the gag.

I ripped off the tape, cocking an eyebrow. “Any last words before I butcher you?”

Spitting out the sacking, he sneered, “So you’re the master who doesn’t let himself play.”

My hand curled harder around the hilt of the knife; sweat and blood made it slippery. “I’m the man who knows right from wrong.”

He chuckled. “No, you live in denial. One day you’ll see the truth. But for now, you’ll kill others who have bowed to the needs they have.” He leaned forward, but I shoved him back.