And no one’s ever killed my wife before.
I can still feel her on my back, as the elevator opens and six of my team surround me in it. Still feel her nails clinging on to my skin. Still hear her frantic words about bad men coming for her. Seems they did. Thankfully for her, another one is on his way now, riding to the fucking rescue to pry her away from deviant scum that dared play games with me in my own home.
Looking down, as the elevator rises us upwards, I search for her features in the mirrored floor. They’re there for me to see. It’s not hard to memorise something so beguiling. Strange that she should cause this reaction in me, though. As she said, she shouldn’t mean anything to me. Nor should I be lowering myself to dealing with desperados and their criminality. The only criminals I deal with are ones like me, those who tease the law for their own financial gain. But she’s inside me now. Part of me, for reasons I can’t quite grasp yet.
I’d like to see her dressed for once. Dinner perhaps.
Reality.
The jostling that occurs within seconds of the door sliding open pushes me to the back of the elevator. I wait, watching as five of the team silently rush out into the space and angle guns at anything. Three of his own men stand startled, all of them raising their own guns back at my team. It’s amusing, making me chuckle quietly and look around at the scenario I’m in. Not sure I’ve ever been in anything quite as villainous as this.
Benton stands prone in front of me, guarding me, as three of my team push forward. Shouts and perfectly trained precision back the Greene men up until they’re rounding a corner towards more space. I can see mouths talking into earpieces, more trained covert conversations being had. Ex Marines are useful like that.
I leave the elevator and begin following the revelry, still relatively captivated with this new game I’m apparently part of. “Who kills who first?” murmurs out of me in a brief minute of silence. “Six of mine, three of you. The odds are not in your favour.”
Two of them scowl back at me, one daring to move his gun in the direction of my face. A shot sounds out instantly, and I watch as that one drops to the floor, creating a pool of his own blood. Compelling. Like her. Not as fucking appealing, though.
It’s a standoff now. My men, his men. No one moving. No one shouting anymore either, as I get to a lounge area. I look around, wondering where he might be in all this bedlam and noise. Hiding presumably. Doesn’t sound like the Greene I’ve now researched, but I suppose it’s what I do with this team around me now. I pay them for their lives should they be needed to protect me.
He does, too, it appears.
“Greene?” I call. “We’re not leaving. You may as well come out from whichever hole you’re in. I’d hate to have these other two men killed because you were too cowardly to face an opponent.”
Silence. Frustrating.
I move around a large couch, safe in the knowledge that five of my men have my back covered and one is still flanking me as I go. A drinks cabinet waits for me, as I wander my way around the room, making me open the door and choose a relatively good bottle of vodka from it.
I drop the bag on the couch. “I hope she’s not dead,” I continue, loudly enough for him to hear. “I hadn’t finished with her.” Scattering feet pull my attention as I grab a crystal glass and start pouring, which eventually turns me around with the glass to watch whatever is happening. Another one of the Greene men is posturing too hard, and one of my team is becoming restless. “I can guarantee you’ll be castrated before you’re killed if she is. I’ll be fucking annoyed with you.”
I sit, unbuttoning my suit jacket, and wait for some result that’s useful to me. None of this is. Although, I’m here. In, as such. And it’s good vodka. If only Mr Greene would dare come out and play we’d be having more fun than this currently is.
Something crashes against a surface at the back of the apartment.
My lips tip up, another swill of vodka going down my throat, and I wait some more. What else is there to do? I have all the time in the world to play with and more men here than he has. That thought does make me question whether he’s phoning more of them, though, which makes me look at the one to the side of me. “Do you think more will be coming?”
“We already have more waiting at the elevator entrance, Sir.”
“Mmm.”
So I sit some more.
And then I begin to get fucking impatient with waiting.
What the fuck’s he doing in there with her?
The sickening thought that he could be hurting what’s mine to hurt, and then the thought that he could even be trying to get his dick inside her, no matter the degenerate situation around him now, infuriates what little patience I had left.
I stand and pace, tipping another glass of vodka down my throat. I’m finished with waiting and attempting manners with someone who clearly does not understand them. I cross the room, slashing my hand across my throat. Two more shots sound out immediately, the sight of the last Greene men falling coming soon after.
The one who’s still shadowing my every move opens doors for me as I continue on, sweeping the room with his gun before letting me move forwards again. It isn’t until we get to the last one that I finally get a look at her. She’s nearly naked, but for a pair of men’s briefs, and the sight of Temple standing behind her, a gun pointed at her head, does not cool my mood.
I stare, taking my time looking over her body. She’s been handled. A lot. Red marks litter her body, most of them in places that suggest she’s been raped. My gaze roams upwards until it comes directly to her face. What was just managing to keep cool inside me dissipates into rage fuelled hatred for anything that moves other than her. Jealousy, repulsion and vile intentions corrupt my thoughts.
He pulls her backwards, tries to show his power over her and me.
He hasn’t got any now.
She looks dazed, as she hangs in his hold around her chest. It makes me step further into the large suite we’re in and frown. “What have you done, Temple?” She lifts her head loosely, stares blankly. Nothing like my little Alice. No determination, no anger either. I look behind her at him, disgusted with any man who would hide behind a woman when threatened, let alone one that would choose to defile her for sport in the real world. “Let her go.”
