The Wall of Traitors.
A few names were already there, carved into the wall even though those people were long gone, but the memories of them were forever tainted by the inscription. I slammed the tip of my knife into the wall and took my time, making sure the cuts were deep, that they would never fade in time.
V.
The men were so quiet, I could hear the knife slice into the wood.
O.
If Vox could pull out a gun and shoot me, he would. But he was outnumbered by all the men who were loyal to me.
X.
I sheathed my knife and turned back to him. “You’re forever known as a traitor—and traitors can never be king.” I snapped my fingers. “Get your ass up here.”
He stared at me from his seat, his look venomous.
Steel rose from a different table and wrapped his arm around Vox’s neck. “The Skull King just gave you a command.” He dragged him off the bench and onto the floor. “Get your ass up.” He kicked him hard in the side.
Vox moaned as he continued to grip his arm.
The humiliation must have been overwhelming, to feel all your comrades look down on you like you were garbage.
He finally pushed himself up and stared at me.
I snapped my fingers. “I’ll shoot you again.”
He finally moved, walking up the steps as he gripped his wound.
I yanked his hand free of his shoulder and slammed it against the wall, making his blood smear across his name, fill the crevices so the stain would dry and last forever, so all the Skull Kings could see it every goddamn day.
When the deed was done, I released him. “I now pronounce you a traitor. You’ll live as a traitor. And you’ll die as a traitor.”
When I pulled into the garage, her car was still there.
I’d told her to go home.
I entered my house and took the stairs to the second floor.
She must have heard my arrival because she ran to the top of the stairs, relief moving into her eyes when she saw me, saw that I was unharmed, that I was in one piece. “Thank god…”
I reached the top level and walked past her. “I told you to go home.” I turned my back on her and grabbed a bottle of vodka before I filled my glass to the brim. I took a deep drink, trying to wash away the bullshit I’d just had to deal with.
She was quiet for a long time. “I had to make sure you were okay…”
“I’m fine.” I took another drink and turned around, seeing her in my shirt. I crossed my arms over my chest and tilted my chin to the floor, staring at the hardwood floor beneath my feet. “I told you I would call.”
“And you didn’t.” She didn’t come close to me, crossing her arms over her chest. “I couldn’t go home and go to sleep. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about you until it was over.”
My hands gripped the counter on either side of me, the drink sitting in front of me.
She slowly came closer to me, approaching me with hesitation.
I didn’t know why I was being such a dick to her. I was still high on adrenaline, a little drunk from all the booze, and just pissed off about the whole thing. I was angry at myself for not figuring it out on my own, and I was pissed off that Vox was too powerful for me to kill. I punished him in a humiliating way, and if he stepped out of line again, I could kill him—with no resistance.
She moved a little closer, her eyes on my face.
I wouldn’t look at her.
Then she spoke, her voice a whisper, and she tore down all my walls. “Babe…”
I closed my eyes when I heard that nickname, the possessive title that made me feel like the luckiest bastard in the entire fucking world. I released the air I’d been holding in my lungs and lifted my gaze to meet hers.
She moved closer, her hands moving to my arms, so she could feel me, squeeze me through my clothes to make sure I wasn’t hurt. Her hands glided to my chest then stroked down, making sure everything was exactly as she remembered. The concern in her gaze was undeniable, so sincere that she looked even more beautiful than ever before. She was relieved, but there was still pain in her eyes, like her worst fears were still fresh in her mind.
My problem with Vox was finished, so there was no reason to think about it anymore. I walked in the door and had the most exceptional woman waiting for me, worrying about me. What other man could say something like that? “Baby, I’m okay.”
When she knew my anger was gone, she stepped closer, her arms wrapping around my neck. Her forehead nestled into my neck and she hugged me, held me close, her fingers pressing into my warm skin so she could feel my pulse. She rested her face in my chest, breathing deep and steady like she’d just found the peace she’d been looking for.
My arms circled her waist, and I rested my chin on her forehead, enjoying our silent companionship, the deep affection that wrapped around us both. My hand cupped the back of her head, and I pressed a kiss to her forehead, closing my eyes as I felt this tiny woman in my arms. Peace descended over my soul, a silence I’d never encountered before. She drove me crazy, turned me into a man I didn’t recognize, but she also gave me this…whatever it was. My arms tightened around her, and I pulled her closer, my arm squeezing her harder because I never wanted to let her go.
Never.
The truck pulled up to the entrance.
Steel unbuckled his safety belt.
I grabbed his arm and steadied him. “I’m going alone this time.”
He stilled, his eyes narrowing. “You’re gonna carry all that cash by yourself?”
I dropped my hand and looked out the front windshield. “I’ll call if I need you.” I opened the sliding door and hopped out. When I reached the sidewalk, I turned around to look at the adjacent roof, to see if the snipers were still there—even though I knew Damien wouldn’t pull that shit again.
It’d been over a month since the last time I was there. I’d dreaded it every moment of every day, but now I had to face it. With my gun in the back of my jeans, I entered the warehouse, taking the stairs until I descended to the bottom floor.
His cooks were making the meth in the rear, while his other workers bagged and prepared to ship everything. They looked at me, watched me, but they didn’t do a damn thing about it.
I entered Damien’s office, finding more than just two bags of money.
Now there were twenty.
Damien was behind his desk, the bruise on his head absent because it had healed. One hand rested on the desk, and he tapped his fingers against the surface, as if he was bored waiting for me to show up and make good on my word.
I looked at the bags, kicked a few to make sure they were full.
Damien’s hostility had increased since our last visit, and that was obvious without him speaking a single word. His look was more than enough.
I dropped into the chair facing his desk.
He sighed quietly, frustrated I didn’t just take the money and leave, frustrated that he would have to hear me speak. He couldn’t contain his rage, his green eyes like poisonous venom that he wanted to launch at me.
My knees were wide apart, and I propped one elbow on the armrest, my closed fist resting against the side of my face. I stared at him, feeling his rage rise in the room like smoke to the ceiling.
He finally addressed me. “Aren’t your men going to check the bags?”