Chapter 23 - The Judgment in the DarkWesley’s face drained of all remaining color. He began to hyperventilate, tears streaming down his cheeks as he realized the docile cleaning maid he used to mock in the basement kitchen was holding his life in her hands.
“Please, Thea! I have a family! I have a mother in the suburbs!” he sobbed, curling into a fetal position on the cold concrete.
“You had a mother, Wesley,” I said, my voice entirely devoid of pity. “Just like Julian had a mother, and just like the children whose futures your syndicate partners destroyed had families. You chose greed over loyalty. And in this house, that’s a fatal diagnosis.”
Before Wesley could scream, the heavy iron security door at the far end of the tunnel banged open with a deafening crash.
Heavy, furious footsteps echoed down the stone corridor.
“Thea!” Ronan’s voice roared through the sub-basement, thick with raw panic.
A second later, Ronan rounded the corner, his Beretta drawn, his chest heaving as his stormy gray eyes scanned the chamber. When he saw me standing over a weeping Wesley with a gun pressed to his head, the terrifying intensity on his face softened just a fraction into pure, unadulterated relief.
“You shouldn't have come down here alone,” Ronan said, his voice low and dangerous as he holstered his weapon and walked slowly toward us.
“I wanted to see which rat was still chewing on our wires,” I replied, keeping my eyes fixed on Wesley.
Ronan looked down at the cowering former footman with utter contempt. He reached out, grabbed Wesley by the collar of his hoodie with one massive hand, and hoisted him effortlessly off the concrete floor as if he weighed nothing more than a sack of laundry.
“Wesley,” Ronan rasped, his voice dropping into that terrifying whisper that preceded every execution at Raven Hill. “I gave you twenty thousand dollars in cash and a bus ticket out of the state. You had a choice between a clean slate and a shallow grave.”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Wesley shrieked, kicking his legs uselessly in the air.
“Take him up to the incinerator room,” Ronan instructed one of the two elite enforcers who had just jogged into the tunnel behind him. “Make sure he has plenty of time to contemplate his career choices before the fire gets started.”
As the enforcers dragged the screaming, flailing traitor away into the darkness, Ronan turned his full attention back to me. He stepped close, his strong hands sliding up to cup my face, his thumbs gently brushing against my cheekbones.
“Are you hurt?” he demanded, searching my features for any sign of injury.
May you like
“I’m fine, Ronan,” I smiled softly, leaning into his touch. “Though your estate’s architectural security needs a serious upgrade.”
Ronan let out a deep, rumbling laugh, pulling me flush against his chest and pressing a fierce, possessive kiss to my lips. “Consider it upgraded. Effective immediately, no one moves an inch beneath this estate without my direct sign-off.”
Related Stories
