Chapter 21

ELIAS

I could still taste Louis on my lips. I haven’t been able to close my eyes since our passionate encounter. The scene kept replaying over and over in my mind like some twisted obsession. The feel of Louis's breath on my skin, the way his lips moved against mine—how vulnerable he had looked, trembling, gasping, hungry for something neither of us had any right to want.

Goddamn it! Get yourself together.

The ache in my groin was getting too intense to be ignored. 

I was unraveling. And that scared me more than I'd ever admit.

I rubbed my face harshly, as though I could scour away the recollection of his soft lips on mine. Of the flame he’d reignited in me. But it lingered, like a ghost, it lingered, tormenting me with what I couldn’t afford to have. That boy—no, that man—was off-limits. Just an employee. A refugee from a toxic life, I had no business being involved in. 

But as much as I vowed to never entertain weakness ever again, one thing rang consistently in my mind: I kissed him. And now all I could think about was how much I wished to do it again.

Repulsed at myself, I prepared for the trip to New York the next morning. The private jet had already been readied, and even though Louis was also coming back, I had arranged for us to travel in different vehicles. 

Space. I needed space.

Throughout the entire plane ride, I ignored Louis only talking to him when absolutely necessary. By the time we arrived at the airport, I left him and took a ride to my office.

By the time I got there, the frigid silence did nothing to douse the firestorm that brewed beneath my stoic façade. I’d barely stepped in when one of my guards came up to me with an envelope. It was plain, yet the seal spoke volumes—Confidential.

I opened it and my jaw tightened at the message within.

It was from John Davis, that dreadful journalist.

"Watch your back, Mr. Montgomery. I have sufficient dirt to expose you and your criminal organization. And I’m not the only one digging."

It seemed the fool has grown bold. I guess the last time was not enough of a warning for him.

I clenched my fists as anger surged through me, the paper squeezed to rubbish. The nerve of that fool! He was fortunate he was under the protection of the media but at this point, he was really testing my restraint.

I wasn’t going to let anything—least of all scum like him—deter me from my goal.

But as if to underscore my building ire, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Cathan.

We've caught one of Jerome's men. He was caught around Elaine’s estate last night. I’ll ready the room."

My expression darkened, a sadistic smile overtaking my features.

Finally. Someone to take out my frustrations on.

Far below the casino, behind reinforced steel doors and security precautions no customer had ever seen, existed a room even I visited rarely—but when I did, it was always for blood.

When I walked into the room, the stench of metal, stagnant perspiration and something far more wonderful—fear—filled the atmosphere.

The man tied to the chair was already shaking. He had one eye swollen shut with dried blood around his mouth.

I shrugged off my suit jacket and hung it on one the hooks beside the racks of torture equipment.

I approached the man, the click-click sound of my shoes against the cold tiles making him shiver in fear. I took one of the brass knuckles from the shelf and wore them, circling the bastard who dared threaten my sister.

"You tried to hurt my sister?" I said, my voice holding barely restrained anger.

"No, I was sent. I swear. I didn't know who they were—"

Crack. The sound of bone on metal echoed through the room as I backhanded him with an iron rod.

"You knew exactly who they were," I said. “Now you’re going to tell me where Aaron is.”

I knew the probability of him having that information was slim, but I didn’t care.

When the man hesitated, I gestured to the guard beside him. He brought a box— a box that contained my favorite tools—each one gleaming under the single bulb above.

A scalpel. Pliers. A blowtorch. And a bone saw.

My precious babies.

When he saw the content of the box, a broken whimper escaped his lips. 

And just because I could, I hit him hard with the brass knuckles, sending blood and what I’m sure was his tooth flying across the room.

“Start with the fingernails,” I ordered my men.

The screaming began shortly after.

Every scream was a salve to my broken mind. A reminder that I still had control over something. As I took over from the guard, tearing skin and snapping fingers, I felt like a god witnessing divine justice. 

Copious amount of blood pooled on the floor underneath his chair. The smell of burned flesh from using the blowtorch permeated the air. 

Yet, I wasn’t done with the man.

"Still not talking?" I whispered, kneeling before the man. "Do you know how long it takes for a man to die when his eyelid is cut off and he's forced to stare at a UV bulb? Or how many teeth can be pulled out before shock occurs?"

The man broke finally.

“D-Davis! He paid me to plant bugs! He said—he said he wanted to bring down your empire! Said there was someone behind him, someone big—"

I rose to my feet, unable to hear more of whatever was coming out of his mouth. 

"Leave him here," I told the guards. "Let him rot.”

“No… no. You can’t do this to me. You prom—” he’s rambling was cut off by another pain filled scream.

I didn't look back as I left the room. The thoughts of the kiss, the threats—they all churned into a heady tempest in my head.

The fact that somehow, Davis was working for Aaron was probably the most shocking news I’ve gotten in ages.

I let out a low chuckle. I couldn’t help but admire Aaron’s tactics. He was really hitting me where I’d never guess to check.

It was all falling into place now.

But if they thought I would be brought to my knees, they had no idea who they were dealing with.

I would burn every one of my threats to ashes and crown myself with their screams.

And as for Louis…

He’s a weakness that has to be buried.