Chapter 70 TOUCH HER AND DIE
Aaron's POV
I stared as the blood rolled down the sink, but I didn't feel a thing. The image of Erica perched, on that bastard's thighs flashed in my mind: her body too close to his cock. My jaw clenched, my eyes turned pitch black in an instant.
I turned on the tap, rinsing the blood away with slow, deliberate movements. I clicked my tongue, blocking out the noise around me...
Crash!
I froze, shut off the water, and my thoughts snapped back to Erica. My legs carried me before I could think. There she was, stumbling backward, her cheeks flushed tomato-red, skin glowing with heat and something unnatural.
"I can't drink anymore!" she screamed, staggering as she pointed a jagged broken bottle at the guy from earlier. I arched a brow.
He glared down at her. "Didn't you say you liked me that much before? You going back on your word now?" He stepped closer, slow and predatory, but Erica thrust the bottle forward, defiance blazing in her hazy eyes.
"Come on, you threw yourself at him earlier."
"Pretty girl, drop the bottle."
"How vicious!"
The men around us laughed loudly, chatting like it was entertainment, but my gaze locked on her. She looked flushed, drunk, or maybe drugged.
I watched him creep closer. Erica's hands faltered, the bottle dipping, and just as he reached to drag her in... my hand clamped down on his shoulder. He froze solid.
I dug my nails deep into his flesh, twisting until his face contorted in raw terror.
"What did you give her?" I asked, my voice low and lethal.
A sick smile curled his lips. "You gave her to me."
My gaze darkened further. "That wasn't the question."
He just smirked and shoved my hand away like it was nothing.
"Piss off. She's mine."
Mine.
Those words ignited something feral in me. My blood boiled. My hand shot to his face, my fingers gripping like iron, and I yanked him close-
BAM!
Once. Twice. Thrice. I slammed him on the table in a blur, watching him choke and gasp for air. I glanced at Erica, she stared at me, fighting to keep her heavy eyes open.
"What did you give her? Last chance," I growled.
He cackled, his bloody teeth came into view.
I rolled my tongue over my teeth, then snatched the butter knife from the table where Erica had been sitting. I stalked toward him.
"Hey, man, chill," one of the gangsters muttered, stepping in to stop me. I shoved him aside like trash.
"Spill," I snarled, fisting his collar until his face turned purple.
He smirked again. My jaw clenched tighter. I could tolerate a lot, but this? Drugging her, treating her like a fucking toy? No. I wouldn't accept it.
I seized his jaw in a crushing grip, pressing the knife's edge right against his eyeball. That's when he finally froze, his pupils opening wide with fear.
"Wait!" he begged, his voice cracking.
But I was done listening. I couldn't stand seeing a single bruise on her skin, couldn't bear her looking this weak, this out of control under his hands.
"You had your chance," I whispered.
"Help me!" he screamed at the others, but no one moved. Smart. A man with a knife pointed at your eye? He's already a madman.
He chuckled weakly mid-panic. "Scared? That's not my shit," he spat, then yanked a pocket knife from his jacket.
I dodged back as he lunged, the blade slicing the air. He glared, thrusting it forward wildly.
"You shouldn't play with that," I muttered, licking my lips, locking eyes with the bastard.
The gangsters rose, tense. "Take this outside," one barked.
I ignored them.
"What did he do to you?" I asked Erica, my voice softening just for her.
She turned to me, lher ashes fluttering slow and heavy, something in that vulnerable look made me want to shield her with my life. My fists balled tighter.
"He got me drunk... tried to grap my breasts," she slurred. "When I said no, he forced a kiss. I barely pulled away."
A dark chuckle escaped me. I turned back to him, rage burning hotter. All I wanted now was to watch him writhe, choking on his own blood.
"Bitch! You came onto me yourself, you lowly whore-"
SWING!
The butter knife arced through the air, slicing clean. It severed his hand at the wrist. He froze, staring in shock as his severed hand hit the floor with a wet thud. His pupils dilated.
"AHHHHH!" His scream ripped through the restaurant, raw and animal.
"Fucking Christ," one gangster cursed, but the others just kept eating. They knew, messing with me meant hell unleashed.
"You touched her with those hands," I muttered, stepping forward as he scrambled back in terror.
I bent down, picking up the blood-soaked knife without a second thought. He tried to bolt, but slipped in the growing pool of his own blood, groaning as he hit the ground hard.
I sneered, grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back as he screamed again.
"What should I remove next?" I murmured, trailing the blade across his face, watching him tremble violently.
"Are you guys just gonna stand there?" he yelled, panic cracking his voice.
A smirk tugged at my lips. "Should they help you? Fight me?"
I was the hidden mafia lord. they all feared me behind the mask, but even as Aaron, my reputation was ironclad. No one dared.
"You didn't answer," I said coldly.
I twisted him to face me fully. His eyes widened in pure horror.
The knife plunged deep into his eye socket, twisting deeper as his body convulsed. Blood poured down, thick and hot, drenching my hands. His remaining eye bulged in agony.
I yanked it out, the left eyeball impaled on the blade. I sighed, licking my lips, then gripped the eyeball with my bare fingers, slicing through the nerves to sever it completely from his skull.
"Shush," I whispered.
His lips sealed in muffled terror, whimpers escaping through clenched teeth.
I glanced at Erica, then back at the eyeball in my palm. Keep it for later. I wrapped it in my handkerchief and tossed it to the nearest waiter.
"Keep it fresh," I ordered.
He nodded, his hands shaking as he caught it, nearly dropping my trophy. Fear radiated off him. My gaze lingered on his back with a sneer.
That's when Erica's legs buckled. She collapsed to her knees.
My dark amusement faded. I rushed to her side.
"What's wrong?" I asked, my voice edged with concern.
A sleepy smile curved to her lips. "I'm sleepy," she mumbled.
My hand reached for her cheek: a soft, possessive caress, but I froze. I didn't want that bastard's blood tainting her skin.
I pulled out my phone, dialed Diego. "Fifteen minutes. Come pick up someone for me." I hung up sharp.
"Let's go," I said gently.
She wobbled to her feet, smiling up at me, drunk and trusting. "Yes, Aaron."
Fuck, hearing my name from her lips like that, it hit me soft and deep, like a caress straight to my soul. She was my only thrill, my obsession.
"Follow me."
I led her to the men's bathroom, locked the door. I scrubbed my hands clean under the running water, not because I minded the blood, but because I refused to mark her with it.
Truth was, she looked even cuter like this: drunk, oblivious, completely mine in her haze.
My gaze darkened. That prick? I'd finish him later.
I turned to her. Her apartment was miles away; she looked exhausted. My home it was.
I wiped my hands dry, I extended it to her "Let's go."
Her eyes burned into my palm... then she surprised me.
Her soft lips crashed onto mine. She was on her toes, straining to reach me. My lashes fluttered; I stared down at her closed eyes, her warmth flooding me like home... like something forbidden. Celina?
The thought shattered as she staggered. My hands gripped her waist, steadying her, pulling her towards me.
"Little Bee," I growled low, possessive the fire in me raging. "Don't you dare let another man touch you. Ever." I paused, my voice dropping darker. "Even a glance at you... and I'll murder them."
SLAM!
She threw her arms around my waist, hugging tight.
"So warm..."