Page 82 of Stormhold

Kenny cried in the background, holding a trembling hand to his bleeding arm.

Killian laughed again. “Guess we’re not cousins after all, Kane.” He scoffed and, after a moment, said, “I’ll leave this fight for now, but come at the Covent, and I won’t hesitate to end you.”

Arkane nodded, signaling to Lucien, who let his friends go, and with that, Killian left without even sparing a glance at Kenny, who was still howling in pain.

Killian would’ve given his life for him, and instead of using it to his advantage, he let his loose mouth win. Guess he really wasn’t that smart after all.

So it was the White Hand who was the true mastermind, and he simply used Kenny to control Victor Stormhold.

Arkane didn’t even waste his breath, and in one quick move, he took out another knife and plunged it into Kenny’s thigh. Kenny cried harder, tears and snot dripping out of him.

“Stop this nonsense, Mr. Stormhold,” Heath Glen spoke out for the first time tonight. “You and I both know we have the upper hand here. You’ve no right to barge onto our property and threaten us like this.” He calmly waved his cigar-holding hand even though his friend was screaming in pain.

“Is that so?” Arkane raised a cool brow at him. “You think you’re in a position to talk to me, Glen?”

Heath Glen laughed, hardly bothered by Arkane’s disdain for him. “You see this?” He waved some kind of burner phone in his hand. “One press, and there won’t even be dust left of your family to bury. Your entire family estate is swarming with your tiny little bugs. Sad how your prissy Stormhold bloodline is going to be wiped out by your own hands.”

Arkane said nothing, and simply stared at him before a sinister smile curled his lips. It soon turned into icy laughter. He was laughing like it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. The sound of it was so loud and jarring that everyone’s smile dropped, and Heath Glen, for once in his life, looked cautious, his eyes dashing to Kenny in confusion.

Kenny shook his head. His face scrunched in pain as he narrowed his eyes at Arkane.

“I thought at least one of you would be smart. But it turns out, both of you are stupid,” Arkane said, the laughter leaving his face as coldness replaced it. He stared dead in Heath Glen’s eyes. “How dumb do you think I am to have Invictus end up in your hands? What you have is simply a dummy sample I made. Go ahead and try it.”

My eyes widened at his words. All this time, I never realized what a good liar he was. He wasn’t just good but exceptional. So much so that he even made me believe that Timothy Walters stole Invictus that night.

The shock that registered on everyone’s face told me it was news to them as well.

Heath Glen finally felt the gravity of the situation weighing upon him as he pressed the button over and over again, and the monitor remained still. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stormhold.” He immediately jumped to his feet, his cigar falling to the ground as he backed away. “Kenny made me do it. I had nothing to do with this.” His sudden change sent a wild, crazy look through Ian Smith’s face, who let out a cry as he tried to hide behind a table.

I took the opportunity to slip inside the room. “It’s me,” I announced quietly before my body was riddled with bullets. I couldn’t take the cold anymore. My toes had grown numb.

Everyone in the room paused for a moment. Some threw me looks of disbelief, while others showed no reaction.

Arkane simply raised a brow at me before walking calmly over to Heath Glen. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Isn’t this a part of your sick revenge for your dear sister?”

A sharp jerk broke through Heath Glen’s right shoulder at the mention of his sister. And his eyes held back rage as they trained at Arkane. “This has nothing to do with her,” he added stiffly. “We’re simply fighting for what is rightfully ours.”

Arkane laughed. “Even a drop of sand from the Twins will never belong to you, Glen. It’s my fucking city, you bastard.” He hurled his fist toward his face, and Heath Glen went toppling to the floor, an outraged cry leaving him. But it didn’t last because Arkane continued like an unrestrained beast, with nothing but pure rage in his eyes.

For the next minute, Arkane beat the living shit out of Heath Glen, only stopping when one of his teeth rolled on the ground. Heath Glen was a bloody mess, as he whimpered in pain, the kind that wouldn’t even allow him to scream out loud.

But Arkane wasn’t finished. With a grin, he pulled out a rusty knife from his pocket.

“You’ll regret this, Stormhold.” Although he cowered in pain, his eyes flashed like a madman. “I won’t let this go.”

“Is that so?” Arkane leaned forward with interest and picked up one of Heath Glen’s hands. “Let’s see what you can do after I break these one by one.” He grinned, toying with the blade along one of his nail beds.

“You can’t,” Heath Glen protested, those dark eyes trembling in terror for once.

“Damn right, I fucking can.” The corner of Arkane’s lips curled as he calmly severed his middle finger through his nail bed while Heath Glen fought and screamed.

“Hold him.” He waved a hand to Jon, who smirked, eagerly accepting the job. Jon didn’t even flinch when a drop of blood splattered right in his ashen eyes, and Arkane continued, severing every one of Heath Glen’s fingers through the nail. And then he proceeded to do the same to his lips, making two deep gashes across them, so deep that his teeth were visible.

It was a gruesome sight.

Heath Glen’s screams were so loud that the walls of the room felt too small. Even Kenny felt it, stricken in horror as he watched his friend being tortured, and there was nothing he could do, knowing very well he was next.

And all I could remember was my mother’s screams flashing in my head.