She pursed her lips, denying me an answer.

I belted her around the ear. She muttered, “Yes. I will be forgiven.”

My lips curled in a snarl. I grabbed her hand, jerking it forward. She struggled, but it made no difference. Franco held out his palm to take my knife while I grabbed the pliers from my pocket. In one fast move, I inserted her finger into the nasty tool.

She sucked in a breath, wriggling in Franco’s grip, but it was no use.

I whispered, “I’m taking your life. You will die and become nothing. Not even a speck of thought, or whisper of second chance. I want you to know that as I take your life, I’m cursing you to the bowels of the underworld. I’m wrapping you in curses so your soul will never rise again.”

My hand twisted the pliers and she let out an ungodly scream. Her finger gave way as I snapped the bone and Franco pushed her away from him. He tossed me the knife and in one short slice, I cut her jugular. Just like Wolverine.

For one millisecond her neck stayed intact, then her flesh gaped open in a red angry gash, spurting my chest with red glowing blood. Hot and tangy, it spewed as if it couldn't stand to be in her body any longer.

Her hands flew to her throat, her finger bent to a horrible extreme, trying to staunch the blood. She gurgled rather than screamed.

Her rapidly beating heart hastened her death as litres of crimson evicted through the cut.

The bound and gagged traffickers all froze, staring in horrified realization. The realization that there would be no walking away from me. That they’d met their f**king maker and had minutes left to live.

The woman toppled to her knees, before crashing onto her face as the last pump of life-force drenched the concrete.

She twitched her last. My voice rang loud and clear. “Your blood will mingle today. All of you. You worked together, you’ll die together.”

I looked to Franco, who nodded.

“Gentlemen,” he said to his team. Instantly, the black-clad mercenaries ringing the space unholstered their guns.

Shaking my head, I said, “Too impersonal.” Holding up the bloody knife, I added, “No guns.”

“You heard him. Put your guns down,” Franco snapped. The sound of knives being pulled free from scabbards hissed around the room.

I pointed at the f**king ringleader in his pouncy blue shirt. “Not him.” Then I looked at the na**d f**k who’d raped the blonde girl. “Him either. Both are mine.”

The mercenaries moved forward, standing behind a victim. Blair, one of Franco’s trusted men who looked like a Norwegian god of war, placed his knife across a trafficker’s throat, his shoulder tense and ready.

Darkness yowled inside, swarming thick and fast; I let myself be consumed. This is for you, Tess.

I never felt the need to be so barbaric, but the beast called the shots. And it wanted blood. It wanted an Olympic swimming pool filled with blood.

“Joined together in death, you will be entwined in purgatory. I have no mercy for you.” My eyes met Franco’s. “Do it.”

It was a morbid floor show gone horribly wrong as the mercenaries severed their victim’s neck in one swoop. Dying bleats and prayers smothered by their gags.

Waterfalls of red gushed forth, splashing wetly against the concrete. One by one their bodies twitched and convulsed, sending blood from veins to floor.

Franco moved closer and mumbled in my ear. “Can I have the ra**st?” His eyes flashed black, and I felt a camaraderie like never before. Monster to monster.

I nodded.

The gruesome death scene played out. The air grew rife with metal and rust. The sweet stench of death followed not long after as their hearts gave out.

My eyes shot to Tess still unconscious in Frederick’s arms. Her hastily wrapped finger lay broken on top of the brown scratchy blanket. Her cheek pressed against Frederick’s black polo. If anything, she looked worse than before—her skin pallid, ashen.

I needed to touch her. Affirm she was still alive and would stay that way. Stepping through the pools of blood, I headed to Frederick and placed as delicate a kiss as possible on Tess’s forehead.

Frederick held her steady, while I caressed her cheek and tried to get my heart to stop hammering against my ribs. She’s still alive.

Her blue-grey eyes flickered open, her pupils so far dilated, I was afraid the drugs in her system might kill her. But her gaze latched onto mine with intelligence, fighting hard to be free.

“Y—you’re covered in blood—” She stopped short, wheezing and whooping with racking coughs. Goddammit, I had to get her to a doctor.

Seeing her so sick sucker-punched me in the gut. I smiled gently. “Esclave. We’re leaving soon. I’m extracting revenge and then we’re going home.”

Frederick scowled. “Seriously, Q? Calling her slave at a time like this?” His look of disapproval pissed me off.

“Tu ne sais rien.” You don’t know. I tried to keep levelheaded but anger made me mutter, “Don’t judge me.” He didn’t get it. Esclave had become an endearment. Aching with tenderness, encapsulating everything that had happened between us.

Tess mumbled something incoherent and I brushed my fingertips down her feverish cheek. “Tess, what would you have me do? What sacrifice would give you closure?” I bowed my head against hers. “Tell me, esclave, and I’ll make it happen. Tell me what will halt your nightmares and bring you back to me.”

For a while she didn’t respond. Then her eyes flickered open and her voice trembled with rage. “They don’t have h—hearts. I want to see if it’s true.”

Frederick tensed. “Q…don’t take that literally.”

What a f**king stupid thing to say. Of course I took it literally. All I could see was holding a black-threaded heart in my hands as the ringleader perished.

My eyes narrowed as Tess slipped back into limpness. She looked so innocent, so broken in her slumber, but the black part of me recognised the black part of her. How dark do you run? How alike are we truly?

Her one request told me more about Tess than any questions I could’ve asked. She wanted their hearts. She wanted the most integral part of a person—the one symbol that represented compassion and love. She wanted it carved out of the men who hurt her.

It would be my f**king pleasure.

I stood straighter, mouth watering at granting her request.

Frederick stepped back a bit, shaking his head. “Q. Don’t. Just put an end to this and be done with it. She won’t remember.”

I snarled. “It isn’t the point that she won’t remember. It’s the fact she asked and I promised. I swore I’d lay her kidnappers’ corpses at her feet. And I mean to deliver them in pieces.”

Tess’s request echoed in my skull: A heart for a heart. A life for a life. A thrum of living for the last beat of death.

It was only fitting. Only fair. Time to deliver the heart of the man who stole her, to put the past behind.

“Leave, Roux. I don’t want you here. Take Tess back to the plane and get ready to leave.”

“You won’t be able to run from the memories if you do this, Mercer. His death will be good enough.”

“What would you f**king do if Angelique asked you to cut off the c**k of the man who raped her?”

He hung his head before answering, “I would slice off his c**k and feed it to him.”

“Exactly. Goodbye, Frederick.”

He turned to leave and I raised my voice to the room. “Everyone go. Wait for us at the airport.”

The men cleaned their blades on random sacking on the conveyor belt and disappeared silently from the room.

Frederick left with Tess cradled in his embrace. Once they’d gone, I stalked back to Franco. He had the ringleader and the ra**st in his grip, both bound and gagged, glaring at me.

Grabbing the ringleader’s shoulder, I said, “Do whatever you want to him. But don’t come down the back of the warehouse. I’ll return when I’m done.”

“Understood.”

We went our separate ways, and the ringleader struggled as I pushed him toward the gloom. It wasn’t far to the back, but it was deep in shadows. Perfect.

I threw him at the conveyer belt.

He twisted to face me, eyes flaring wide, trying to articulate around the gag.

I ripped off the tape, cocking an eyebrow. “Any last words before I butcher you?”

Spitting out the sacking, he sneered, “So you’re the master who doesn’t let himself play.”

My hand curled harder around the hilt of the knife; sweat and blood made it slippery. “I’m the man who knows right from wrong.”

He chuckled. “No, you live in denial. One day you’ll see the truth. But for now, you’ll kill others who have bowed to the needs they have.” He leaned forward, but I shoved him back.

He smiled. “It will happen. You can’t ignore who you truly are forever. One day the decision won’t be yours anymore, and when that happens operations like ours will be your saving grace.”

His words shot bullet after bullet into my heart. I shouldn’t let it affect me, but it did, because he was right. He was right and that’s why I fought so hard.