Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 120472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
“Then find it. You need to bring it to me.”
“What?” I gasp. “I’m not wrapping that thing up and bringing it home. It’ll probably give me an STD.”
“You gotta do it, babe. That tongue cost me ten years of my life. I need it on my shelf like a fucking trophy.”
“Technically,” Levi butts in, “it should be on my shelf. I shot it off.”
“Only because I gave you the idea. Take an eyeball, or better yet, one of his actual balls. The tongue is mine.”
Roman crouches down, his sickening stare lingering on Antonio’s body. “I want his spine,” he mutters, the darkness in his tone sending chills sweeping over my skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps.
“Ooooookay,” I say slowly, turning away from the almost dead body as I start my search for the tongue. “This just got a little too weird for me. I’m out.”
And just like that, I end the call, knowing the good part is over, and as I find the scrambled mess of bloody tongue laying haphazardly halfway across the room, I hear Levi’s irritated tone as he mutters to himself. “Fuck, he’s dead. I wanted to feel his heart beating in my hand just once before I crushed it.”
12
The jar of shredded tongue dangles from my fingers as I try not to gag, but let’s be real, with the way Roman was driving back to the castle, the thing was bouncing around in the jar as though it had a life of its own … well, I guess it once did. Either way, it’s fucking disgusting, and after what Roman and Levi put me through, I could barely believe when they refused to hold it for me.
Those damn assholes.
I almost hate myself for enjoying tonight, but I’m putting it down to the strong painkillers pulsing through my system. I’m sure had my mind been clear, I would have seen the horror that was going on around me, instead of encouraging it. Hell, seeing the sparkle in the boys’ eyes almost got me off. Seeing them in their zone, dominating and laying their traps to overtake the DeAngelis family is nothing short of the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s a real shame that they’re a bunch of psychotic heathens, otherwise, I’d allow myself to truly fall for such strong-willed, powerful men. You know, not considering the fact they tortured me. It kinda kills the vibe.
The Escalade door closes behind me, and as I'm walking back into the castle trying to ignore the jar in my hand, my pained stomach reminds me it’s been far too long since I pumped it full of painkillers. I should have eaten and rested my wounds before sneaking out of bed and screwing Marcus blind. But what can I say? Tonight was exhilarating. For just a moment, it made me forget how much I hate them. It was the closest thing to happiness I had felt in a long time … until we got back into the car, and their stony silence brought me right back to my tortured thoughts and memories.
Leaving the boys behind me, each with their own disgusting trophy to represent their greatest victory, I stride through the massive castle, determined to get this shit up to Marcus and out of my possession. Passing the impressive living room, I find Marcus sitting up on the couch, a somber expression etched into his handsome face. Doubling back before passing the entrance, I prop my shoulder against the wall and look in at Marcus, studying his side profile as he stares out the window into the pitch-black night.
“Howdily doodily,” I say, groaning to myself the moment the words come out, realizing a guy like Marcus, with the upbringing he had, probably wouldn’t get that reference.
A soft, breathy chuckle falls from his lips as the corner of his mouth pulls up just a fraction. “Fat Tony was always my favorite.”
I scoff and stride into the living room, placing the tongue jar down on the coffee table before him. “Wow, I shouldn’t be surprised,” I tell him as I drop down beside him, boldly taking his hand in mine before gently grazing my thumb over the angry red scar I left on his warm skin. “I kinda had you pegged as a Sideshow Bob kinda guy.”
“Oh, I am,” he says, his lips lifting just a little bit more. “Sideshow Bob always spoke to me in ways that Tony never could, but then, Tony had a kind of power that Bob could only ever dream about. It’s a numbers game, babe. To be powerful, you need to align yourself with power, otherwise, you’ll end up with your fucking tongue in a jar.”
My gaze falls back to the jar and a shudder runs down my spine before I quickly change the topic, needing my mind to be anywhere but there. “What are you doing down here?” I question. “You know your brothers are going to give you a hard time.”