The beast inside snarled and ripped holes in my soul. The darkness billowed, and I no longer had the strength to fight it. I would never fully repress it again. But I didn’t care.
I liked acknowledging this part of myself. I loved being free for the first time in my life.
Even running on no sleep, barely any food or water, I revved on a higher plane. I was strong enough to find Tess, but only if I embraced the monster inside me.
Consequences would come later.
The van swung around the last corner, tyres squealing. “This one, boss?” one of Franco’s men asked, slowing down to pull into an alley. Beside us rose a huge majestic hotel. Designed in typical Russian beauty, it stood out like a ruby glinting in the night. Red accents on windowsills and plasterwork looked as good as the day it was painted. The pale pink turrets looked like a cupcake, iced by some f**king fairy.
I was proud of this project but wanted to tear it the f**k down with my bare hands until nothing remained. And I would if Gerald had hurt Tess. I’d blow it up, with him inside.
“Yes,” I said, glaring out the window, looking for onlookers.
No one walked past the alley, no one disturbed us. “Let’s go,” I muttered, twisting in my seat to face Franco. He was already prepared, leaning forward, tension palpable in his tight muscles.
The moment his eyes met mine, he placed a semi-automatic into my awaiting palm and snapped a radio watch onto my wrist.
“Frequency is set, all you have to do is speak into it, and the team will hear you.” All business, he pushed a few extra clips into my blazer breast pocket, and fumbled in the black canvas bag beside him for a wicked sharp hunting knife. “You have enough rounds to kill most of the staff inside, so you should be covered, but keep the knife on you, just in case.”
I took the handle, running a thumb over the sharp blade. A strange haze came over me, removing me from the van, hurtling me into darkness.
Franco knew my aversion to carrying a knife into a tense altercation. Guns kept me human—impersonal, remote from taking a life. But a knife? A knife spoke to the beast. It made my mouth water at the thought of slipping the blade between an enemy’s ribcage and piercing their heart. To be so up close and personal, to feel their last breath, knowing I stole it from them. It made me f**king hard and twisted my brain into something monstrous.
The temptation was exquisite, filling my mind with ruthless power. My hands shook with the need to gut Gerald the Wolverine. If I took this there would be no turning back. I would be admitting that Tess was gone, and I was sacrificing not just my livelihood and countless of freed slaves, but my sanity, too.
I’d fought my battle for twenty-eight long years. Exhausted myself into believing I could be just a man—a human without the savagery of a monster. If I let myself slip now, it was all over.
You have no choice. Embrace the black, recognise the truth.
Gritting my teeth, I tucked the knife into the back of my waistband. The moment it was out of my grip, I breathed normally again.
“You know what I want.” My voice didn’t resemble a man anymore.
I might as well pretend I never was one. I was nothing more than a creature with the urge to bathe in his enemy’s blood. I’d never felt such baser needs or the compulsion to stab and mutilate so keenly.
Franco nodded. “I know what to do. Don’t worry, we’ve got your back, and we’ll make sure your exit is clear…” His eyes darted away before settling back on mine. “Look, if anything does go wrong, there’s a man called—”
I held up my hand, cutting him off. “I don’t want to know. Nothing will go wrong. T’as compris?” Understand?
Franco gave me a tight smile. “Of course, but...” He snapped his lips closed. Avoiding my eyes, he passed a Glock to Frederick along with a matching knife. “I know you probably won’t use these, but it’s best to be armed.”
Frederick grimaced. “I’ve managed to work with Q for years and kept my hands clean. But I’m not squeamish if I have to.”
Franco smiled, but his body language frustrated the f**k out of me. He had something on his mind, and if he didn’t spit it out who knew if he’d be compromised.
My eyes narrowed. “Speak, Franco. What the f**k do you want to say?”
He glared, before looking away briefly. “I’m just worried that we’re walking into a building full of murderers and drug dealers and Tess might not be there. What’s the next step?” He dropped his voice so only I heard it. “Sir, what if she’s run… What if others have her?”
The memory of Lefebvre rutting between Tess’s legs collided through my mind. Would I never be free of that f**king image? The hatred for myself for hurting Tess so much she ran into the clutches of a r**ist hammered me into the ground.
I clenched my fingers so hard, I pressed the trigger on the gun. Luckily for everyone in the van, the safety was on.
“They won’t give her an opportunity to run. She’ll be there.” She has to be. Otherwise, I didn’t know where the f**k to look, and that terrified the shit out of me.
Franco nodded. “Fair enough. You know this cocksucker better than I do.” He straightened. “Let’s get this ball of fun on the road, shall we?”
I nodded and slid open the door. Franco spoke to his men. “Alpha squadron with me. Beta team you’re with Dean, and Charlie outfit you’re with Vincent. Everyone, you have your orders. Follow them meticulously if you want to stay alive.”
Frederick climbed out to stand next to me as Franco’s clones disembarked the van. They moved like a legion of shadows, armed to the f**king teeth and dying to bloody their weapons.
No one spoke as Franco took the lead. With a few finger codes from him, we fell into formation. Half the team melted into darkness as if they evaporated into the night. The other half plastered themselves against the rich architecture of the Wolverine’s hotel. The same hotel I owned shares in, arranged permits and consents for. The same hotel that gave me two slaves as bribes.
I prided myself on remembering every girl’s name, linked in my mind to the building or acquisition that allowed me to save them.
Sophie and Carmen were collateral for this particular building. Polish, and English, both beaten within an inch of their life, both forever unable to walk properly with what was done to them.
The familiar rage compounded on top of the already black blood in my veins. I pitied anyone who was my enemy—I would have a tally of deaths after tonight.
I wanted to drive a wrecking ball through every floor and crush the hotel to rubble. Fucking Russian bastard.
Within a matter of milliseconds, Franco’s team spread out and camouflaged into the night, leaving Frederick and me to stroll casually the rest of the way. The small semi-automatic weighed down my blazer’s inside pocket, and the knife pricked the top of my ass every time I stepped.
Every movement felt different: smoother, sleeker. I no longer owned my body—the beast inside did.
“Try and pretend you’re still human, man. You’re freaking me out, and I know you won’t hurt me.”
I shot a look at Frederick, who’d hidden the Glock in his suit and smoothed his gelled hair, so he looked presentable.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I growled.
“Course you don’t. But I’m telling you, lighten up, try and think of pleasant things. Your eyes are positively savage.”
Words were delays, and I wanted none of it. Glowering, I strode forward and headed toward the main entrance. The street held a couple climbing into a taxi, their luggage littered around the curb.
The doorman gave us a curt nod as we walked in. My back stayed ramrod straight thanks to the knife down my pants, and my hands ached to clench into fists and start tearing up the place to find Tess.
She has to be here. She has to be.
The lobby looked like the Renaissance period threw up on it. Scrolls and gold leaf, pretentious and ostentatious.
Trying to act normal, I eyeballed the concierge. I didn’t pay any attention to the private alcoves or carefully arranged seating nooks, nor did I listen to the gentle notes of a piano playing. I focused entirely on the man who would be my first victim if he didn’t take me to Gerald.
I demanded, “I’m here to see your boss. And before you ask if I have a f**king appointment, I don’t, and I don’t need one. Mention my name. He’ll see me.”
The elderly concierge looked down his nose, peering over half-moon glasses. “I know who you are. And he said to let you up when you arrived.”
I didn’t register shock. That would be a weakness; I was anything but weak in that moment. I was ready.
“Lead the way,” I clipped.
The man handed me a keycard and pointed at the elevator reserved for the penthouse floor. “Be my guest. I’ve been told not to disturb your meeting.” He gave me a sneer and my fingers twitched to punch him.
Frederick came to the man’s rescue by tugging my arm. “Great. We’ll head up.” He plucked the keycard from my grip, hauling me to the lift. “Wait till we’re behind closed doors before you go berserk, Q.”
I jerked my head in some sort of acknowledgement and followed him into the elevator. The doors began to close, and Franco appeared from nowhere, jumping in beside us.
“All clear as far as we can tell. I’m guessing he has his penthouse fortified. I recommend we wait till Alpha squadron can catch up.”
They were lucky I wasn’t scaling the f**king building with my bare hands. Wait longer? No f**king way.
I didn’t bother answering as the lift soared upward. I reached into my breast pocket and pulled out the gun.
Frederick eyed me warily, but then followed suit. Franco pulled two guns from his holster beneath his jacket. We nodded at each other then stared at the doors, waiting for the moment when they would open.
The three clicks of safeties being taken off helped mollify me for a moment.
Not long. Hold on, Tess.
The gentle ping of arrival sent every muscle in my body vibrating with tension. I was coiled, armed, and f**king ready to create some carnage.
The doors glided open. We crouched and moved forward.
“I expected you twenty-four hours ago, Mercer. You’re losing your touch.” Gerald chuckled the moment we stepped into the lounge.
I froze, battling back the urge to let loose the entire round of bullets into him.
The penthouse was five hundred square feet of pure decadence. Not only had I designed the hotel suite’s floor plan, but hired an interior designer who knew the value of great lighting, subtle wall tones, and elaborate wallpaper.
It was a perfect palace, sullied by the f**king gutter rat who lived there.
Gerald sat in a large weathered chair, nursing a goblet of liquor. His prosthetic leg cocked to the side awkwardly from a former gunshot, courtesy of a disgruntled business associate.
His pink scalp and wispy blond hair didn’t do anything to help his gob for a face, or the nasty scars on his cheeks. His nose was red and large, identifying him as a drunkard, and his large gut strained in the ridiculous paisley shirt. It made him look watery eyed and almost ready for the grave, but regardless of his sickly appearance, his control over his empire was legendary.