I held my breath.
There was no expression on my husband’s face.
Unearthly, otherworldly beauty, with that jet-black hair that licked the strong tendons of his throat, the cheekbones and jawline that could cut glass.
“I’m not doing any of that shit,” Gabriel said. “I’m about to be a father. I’m a goddamn family man and you think I’m going to fucking frolic all over the countryside trolling for nasty pussy when I have my wife right here?”
He leaned back against the counter, the outline of that stupid big dick visible against his gray sweatpants.
They both looked startled, and Hemsworth licked his lips.
The room was completely silent except for the distant drip of blood somewhere.
This was the rot I had smelled. This was the rot that had spread, until Ashgrove Manor was poisoned with it.
The scalpel twisted in Hemsworth’s hands.
If only he’d drop it.
There was another lying on the table, within close range of his fingers.
“All right,” Lucian said. “Then there’s nothing for you here. There’s no need to worry about him. Just let him do it. He’s not doing it to anyone important.”
“You’re disgusting!” I cried. “These are real people we’re talking about here. They don’t deserve this treatment.”
Lucian’s mouth twitched like the fucking coward he was, but he still kept his eyes focused on Gabriel.
Gabriel who wasn’t moving, Gabriel who was still leaning against the counter next to the desiccated brains and the stomach-churning totems of his uncle’s deadly work.
“I know you don’t care,” Hemsworth said. “I can sense it in you. I know another psychopath when I see one. Everyone else is just a pawn to us. You don’t really care about these corpses.”
Gabriel shrugged. “You’re right. I don’t.”
He leaned back against the counter, the tip of his cigarette a burning dot in the darkness.
Lucian’s shoulders sagged in relief, and I felt my heart sink.
Even though I knew he was a psychopath, even though I knew he didn’t care about anyone.
“But,” Gabriel said, and I saw the brothers pause, darting little looks at each other.
“But what? I thought we all agreed you didn’t care about their lives.”
“I don’t.”
Gabriel unpeeled himself from the counter, taking a deep drag from his cigarette and then kicking at the door so he could blow the smoke ring out into the hallway.
“But my wife will give me something I want if I stop the Ashgrove Village serial killer. I don’t give a fuck about anyone but her. So I’m going to have to kill you to stop it.”
“The—fuck? What’s she going to give you?”
“She’s going to love me.”
“Love you? What the fuck do you need that for?”
Hemsworth looked incredulous, the scalpel twitching in his hands.
“I want it,” Gabriel said.
