𝚸1 𝐎𝐅 𝚨 " 𝐓𝐖𝐎-𝚸𝚨𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒" | 18+
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A voice so tempting triggers the darkest parts of her mind, it makes her think unimaginable things, like the pain she thought she escaped.
His obsession for her deeply and darkly abnormal, the i...
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18 Reign I Gusev
"Please, Reign, if I—I knew, I could never. I... would never." Trent's voice quivered, his body shaking in terror. I stood before him, my men crowding the room, a silent reminder of what was to come of his impeding doom.
I finished my drink and set the glass down on the desk. My eyes never left him. I've been a witness to his pitiful tendencies over some years—his lies, his deceit—and now, today had sealed it for me. The moment of reckoning had arrived. My Ami, she was uncomfortable to be around this cock sucker, hands that weren't mine touching her.
Trent is notorious for his sly behavior, yet somehow he never faces any consequences. While his actions haven't directly impacted my family or business, they certainly don't reflect sanity—more a reckless daring, if anything. I'm inclined to think he's lost his fucking grip on reality, but tonight, he's fortunate. I'm in a more tolerable mood than usual.
I'm filled with excitement.
"What brings you to this auction Trent?" I asked him, folding my arms leaning against the edge of the desk. "It's been a while since we last talked."
"As you know, you gotta spend money to make money am I right?" The son of a bitch laughed.
I smiled and replied, "Of course."
He continued, "I hope there's no bad blood between us, given our history."
"Nyet, why would there be problems? Your family, no?" I reached for the scotch, filling two glasses before handing him one. "How about a toast?"
Trent interrupted. "May I?" I fell silent, curious to hear his pathetic choice of words. He cleared his throat, his eyes sweeping over the room. "I'm toasting to a new business venture. Tonight, we become even more successful men. Wealthier than before, and this time, Reign, you take me in as a partner."
I smirked as he raised his cup. We shared a brief clink. "Salud." He downed the drink, savoring the dark liquor. At this point, my patience was wearing thin—Trent was starting to feel like a problem that needed erasing.
I glanced up at Polka.
Right away he grabbed Trent by the back of the neck slamming the side of his face down on the wooden desk top. The glass drops from his hand shattering on the floor. Trent grunted trying to fight back, but the grip around his neck only grew tighter by his pointless struggle.
Finally, the last desperate cry for help sent a surge of satisfaction through me. I finished off the rest of my drink, a sense of anticipation stirring in my chest for what was coming next.
Leaning down to Trent's ear, I whispered,"This is deeper than some fucking bad blood my old friend, you touched my woman. You always had issues with keeping your hands to yourself. Don't you Trent?" I went to claim the beautiful machete sitting against the wall.
