Page 103 of Where Angels Fall

“Where?” I snap.

“The grey zone,” he replies. “We both know the rules.”

I already know it’s a trap. I don’t care. My vision pulses red as the line goes dead, and for a second the only sound in the room is Evelyn’s broken sobbing and Howard’s laboured breathing.

Zeke didn’t choose the grey zone on a whim. Every instinct in me screams that this is wrong. That he wants me there. That he’s counting on the fact that I’ll lose control.

He’s right.

I grab Howard by the front of his suit and haul him off the couch. He cries out as his ruined knee buckles, his weight sagging against me.

“We’re going for a drive,” I murmur in his ear.

Evelyn jolts to her feet. “You can’t just...”

I swing my gun toward her without looking.

“Stay,” I say calmy. Too calmly. “If you value your pathetic life, you’ll sit exactly where you are.”

She freezes. Her mouth opens and closes uselessly. Her eyes dart to Howard, then to the blood pooling at my boots, then back to the gun.

She sits.

Howard swears under his breath as I shove him forward. He stumbles, nearly collapsing, and I drag him by the collar down the foyer steps. His good leg tries to keep up, but the injured one leaves a thick, dark smear behind us.

The marble that once looked pristine is now painted with him.

Poetic.

Looks nicer than the ghastly art hanging on the walls.

I push him through the front doors into the rain. The air is cold and metallic, washing over us as lightning flickers somewhere in the distance. Griff’s black Ute waits in the over-the-top driveway, engine already running from when I left it on.

Howard’s eyes lift, and for the first time tonight, something close to real fear flickers across his face.

The five security guards lay where I left them. On his front steps. Rain washes diluted red down the white stone. Their empty eyes stare at nothing. Howard swallows loudly.

His pathetic lump of a body falls in a heap on the gravel when I let go of him, and I sigh. Currently, his daughter is tied up, enduring much worse than a busted knee, and she’s doing it with a hundred times more dignity than this useless sack of shit.

I find the zip ties in the centre console and step over him, securing his wrists behind his back. He fights me, but it’s abysmal, and I have him secured in seconds.

“You’re making a mistake,” he grunts, his tone coming out uneven.

“I’ve already made plenty,” I reply flatly. “This won’t be one of them.”

I’m a strong man, but lifting this fucker takes a good effort, pulling a grunt out of me as I shove him face-first into the back of the ute. He lands hard, a groan punching out of him as his injured knee slams against the metal. I slam the tailgate closed.

My heart is racing as I pull away from the mansion, tyres slipping along the damp asphalt. I don’t drive gently. I need to get to my angel. And the thudding of his body and the muffled groans echoing from the back is just an added bonus.

This man will die tonight. Let’s make it as horrible as we can. Let him feel a fraction of what she’s feeling.

The sound of my phone ringing pulls me away from images of her, bound and sobbing, gritting her teeth against the pain.

“Boss,” Leon’s voice rumbles through the car speaker. His breathing is fast, voice tight.

“Talk.”

“I found her.”