Boone flanks my side, his knife ready to flick right between Clay’s eyes at any moment. He hasn’t had the chance to reunite with Rayne, and I know he is itching to do so. But judging by the death glare he is giving Clay, I know this has to come first.
I casually walk to the table of weapons Boone so graciously laid out for me. “Hmm. What shall it be?” Picking up a mallet, I flip it in my hands, catching it by the handle and slamming it down on the metal table. “Mhmm. Nope. Too soft.”
Clay jumps and I chuckle.
Placing the mallet down, I pace back and forth as I comb over the wide assortment. “What shall it be? Oh. I know just the perfect thing!” Stopping at the end of the table, I pick up the set of brass knuckles, chainlike dog collar, and Swiss army knife.
Boone steps beside me, his knife tucked behind his ear. One wrong move and he could cut his ear off, but he doesn’t care. Boone is known as the ticket to hell for a reason. When he is down here, limits and morals cease to exist.
Boone holds out his hands, and I place the collar and knife in his open palms.
Slipping the brass knuckles on, I flex my fist and move to stand in front of Clay.
Clay’s almost white eyes stare down at me. “Oh, big tough guy. Now that—FUCK.”
I cut his words off with a hard punch to the gut. His shirt is ripped from when I threw him out the shattered window of the warehouse and I get a good glimpse at the cuts on his chest.
Blood streams down from them and just for the hell of it, I slam my fist into the same spot once more.
“Hey motherfucker. Last time I checked, we were the ones that burned down your operation. If anyone has the upper hand, it has always been us. Shame your last moments are going to be stuck in that delusional head of yours.” Boone’s words fly out his mouth as if he is breathing fire, his body shaking with anger.
Clay looks at him and smiles that all too familiar smile. “Oh, you are the delusional one, my dear enemy.”
Another punch, this one to the face. “Shut the hell up.”
Twirling his knife in his hand, my tools in the other, Boone leans against the wall. “What the hell is he talking about, Aries?”
Clay pulls on his chains, letting out a strained groan. “Do tell him. It only took me throwing your little slut in your face for you to finally figure it out. How is Taylor, by the way?”
In slow motion, Boone tosses me the Swiss army knife and I spin on my heel, driving the knife straight into his limp dick. Blood quickly seeps through his jeans and just for the hell of it, I twist the knife.
Clay lets out a blood-curdling yell and I slam my foot into his stomach. “Before the real fun begins, I suggest you keep my girl’s names out of your mouth or I will shove your microdick so far down your throat you won’t even fucking taste it.”
The visual causes Clay to empty his stomach and I hop out of the way just in time. His head falls forward and his body goes limp.
Not phased in the slightest, Boone shrugs. “Shame. He passed out.” Not moving from his spot on the wall, he furrows his brows. “Aries?”
“Clay is the masked devil.”
Boone pales. “What?”
“I don’t have all the answers since weakling here passed out, but he said something back at the warehouse that made it all click. Remember the threat against Taylor?”
“Yeah?”
“Right before I threw him out the window, he, in no fewer words, threatened the same exact promise.”
Kicking off the wall, Boone paces. “So this entire time, we have been looking for two ghosts who turned out to be one of Clay’s many aliases.”
“Yes.”
I knew the second he made the promise in the warehouse that Clay was the devil lurking in the shadows. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to put a bullet in his skull and throw him inside the blazing inferno. But I knew if I did, I would never really get the true revenge and vindication I needed if I gave him the easy way out.
And I’m glad I patiently waited, because hearing that he also is the cause of what I know will be a long road to recovery for my innocent little girl has me seeing red.
Threading his fingers in his hair, Boone marches up to Clay, kicking him in the chest. “Wake the fuck up.”
Clay groans and I use his weak state to slip the collar around his neck and hook the chain on the metal loop.
