Chapter 40

ALEXANDER

Behind me, the man screams.

I close my eyes for a second. Just one. Let the sound wash over me like a balm I don't feel.

Because as much as I need this man to bleed for what he's done... the chaos inside me has a different name now.

Alina.

And the worst part?

I don't know if I want to cage her... or keep her.

The scream behind me rips through the silence, sharp and raw-a guttural sound that cuts through the air like a blade. But it doesn't move me. I sip my drink slowly, the burn of the bourbon grounding me while chaos unfolds at my back.

"Left hand," I say flatly without turning.

"He'll need the right to write his confession."

Leo's voice is calm, efficient.

Ahhhhhhh.....

"Second knuckle's gone."

Another scream. Higher this time. Choked. Wet.

I close my eyes and breathe in through my nose. The scent of blood is faint, but it's there-metallic and sharp.

Familiar. Comforting.

Still not enough.

I turn slightly, just enough to see the bastard trembling now, sweat and blood streaking down his face. His lips move, whispering something-maybe a plea, maybe a name. I don't care.

I cross the room slowly and crouch in front of him again. His eyes are wild now, panic fully replacing whatever arrogance or confidence he came in with.

Good.

That's the look I want.

"I gave you a chance," I say quietly, voice cold and steady.

"One. That's more than you deserved."

I reach out and gently brush my fingers against his ruined hand. He flinches violently, and I smile.

"Who sent you?"

"I-I don't-" he stammers, voice trembling.

I nod to Leo. "Next finger."

Leo doesn't hesitate.

The sickening crunch of bone echoes off the walls.

The man howls.

I lean in close, my voice a whisper against his ear.

"You're going to tell me what I want, one piece at a time if I have to carve it out of you. You think you've felt pain? You haven't even scratched the fucking surface."

I stand again and motion to Leo.

"Keep going."

I turn back to the bar, but my hands curl into fists on the wood.

Because no matter how many bones I break tonight, it won't silence the voice still echoing in my head.

Alina.

Challenging. Beautiful. Infuriating.

And for some reason, mine.

The man's screams had faded into ragged gasps, his body trembling, slumped like a marionette with its strings cut. Blood slicked the marble floor beneath him-fresh and dark. His fingers were ruined-swollen, broken, twisted in ways they shouldn't bend. And yet, Leo stood over him, silent and patient, the next instrument of pain in his gloved hand.

I took another sip of bourbon, the glass cool in my palm, though I hardly tasted it anymore. The only thing I could taste was the rage simmering low in my chest.

"Again," I said without looking back.

"No-wait-" the man croaked, voice hoarse and broken, throat raw from screaming.

My brow lifted.

He looked up, his bloodshot eyes flicking from Leo to me, like he couldn't decide which one of us he feared more.

I already knew the answer.

"Talk," I said flatly.

He coughed, winced-then nodded, jaw trembling.

"It was... it was Robert... Robert Solas."

The name made something in me still. My glass paused at my lips.

Leo's eyes met mine across the room. He stepped back without a word.

I moved closer, crouching in front of the man again, my voice low and lethal. "Say that again."

"It was Robert," the man repeated, more desperate this time.

"Robert Solas… he sent me." The words tumble out of the man like broken glass. "He said the girl you’re keeping… she’s his. That you stole her from him."

His?

Seriously!

Heaven help anyone who tries to take her from me-because what I'm doing to this man?

That would be mercy.

A dark laugh slipped from my throat. But there was no amusement in it—just a sharp edge of ice and fury.

"His?" I echoed, voice low, deadly calm.

"She doesn’t belong to anyone. But if she did…" I stepped closer, eyes narrowing.

"It sure as hell wouldn’t be that rat bastard."

The man flinched, panic flooding his face.

"I-I wasn’t here to do anything, I swear," he stammered, the words racing out of him now.

"He just wanted eyes. Wanted to know where you kept her. Said to watch… report back. That’s all. Just… just to see if she was still alive."

Coward.

Pathetic.

But useful—maybe.

I grabbed him by the collar and yanked him forward, our faces inches apart.

"And if I hadn’t caught you?" I asked, voice cold enough to freeze bone.

He sucked in a ragged breath, eyes wide with fear.

"He’s planning something," he croaked.

"A hit. Said it’s coming soon. Didn’t give a date. Just said to be ready."

I tilted my head, watching him squirm.

"He wants the girl back," he added quickly.

"Said you stole what was his. That you don’t deserve her. That she was promised to him."

Promised.

The word slid through my skull like a bullet, igniting a fire I didn’t bother to put out.

I took a slow step forward, crouching until I was eye-level with the pathetic excuse of a man shaking before me. My voice dropped, cold and deliberate.

“Tell Robert Solas… if he wants her back, he better bring an army.”

I straightened, brushing imaginary dust from my jacket sleeve.

“And even then, he’ll be lucky to leave with his spine intact.”

I turned, pausing only for a moment.

“Because she’s not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.”

The man whimpers, eyes darting between me and Leo, as if still unsure which of us will end his life first.

But I don’t even look back at him as I walk to the bar. My hands are steady as I pour a drink, the scent of oak and firewood curling around me like a familiar cloak.

Behind me, Leo speaks up, voice calm. “Bag him?”

I take a sip, let the warmth trail down my throat, and shake my head once.

“No.”

Leo stills. “You want to keep him breathing?”

“For now,” I murmur.

“He’s going to deliver a message. Covered in blood, one eye swollen shut, maybe a few bones cracked in just the right places.”

I turn my head slightly, just enough to catch Leo’s smirk forming.

“Make sure he can crawl. Just barely.”

Leo nods once, pulling on a pair of gloves.

“And then…” I say, voice low and lethal, each word laced with quiet promise,

“Send Robert a message he won’t misunderstand—”

Leo lifts his head, blood on his gloves, eyes steady.

“What kind of message are we sending?”

I pause at the bar, my back still to him. Then I glance over my shoulder, jaw tight, voice like smoke and steel.

“We won’t be using words.”

That’s all it takes. Leo nods, understanding the language of silence and pain better than most.

But I’m not done.

“Make it clean,” I say, slow and deliberate.

“Take the tongue—he doesn’t need it anymore. Crush the hands so he remembers what happens when they reach where they don’t belong.”

A pause.

“Leave the eyes.”

Leo’s brow lifts slightly.

“He’ll need them,” I finish, voice colder than the steel in his tools. “To see what’s coming.”

And then I turn away, glass in hand, already done with the man’s fate. Because my mind is elsewhere.

On her.

I pause at the door, my mind already drifting back to Alina-to the terrified defiance in her eyes, to the way her body tensed beneath mine, like she wanted to fight even as she trembled.

A slow, dark smile curves my lips.

“Oh—and make sure Robert Solas understands one thing,” I say, just before reaching the door. My voice is calm, but the edge in it could cut glass.

“I don’t share. Not women. Not power. Not what's mine.”

Then I turn on my heel and walk out, the man’s fresh screams echoing behind me, following me like a twisted symphony down the hall.