Page 14 of It Destroys Me
Cars pulled up, and then Bolton emerged, dressed in all black, his fair face marked with scars that hadn’t quite healed yet. He had the same arrogance to his stance, the same insufferable cockiness in his eyes, even though he was the one who’d lost everything—and I’d gained it.
I assumed Astrid was asleep in her bedroom, disappointed that I hadn’t come home or had gone straight to bed without speaking to her. I chose to keep her in the dark about this because Bolton truly was my problem now. I’d made him my problem the moment I’d shown up in Hummers and bulletproof vests. The moment I’d burned down his villa and everything inside it. The moment I’d taken his wife and came inside her.
I wasn’t sure what the fuck he had to be cocky about.
He stopped ten feet away from me, a man with boyish looks, with blond hair and blue eyes. He was lean and limber because he didn’t need to be strong when his opponents didn’t know he was coming. He was no match for me physically. But he was fast with a blade. I would give him that.
I had my guys with me, and he had his. Guys with automatic rifles by the cars, snipers posted on roofs. We might as well whip out our dicks and our measuring tapes too. I waited for him to speak first since this bullshit was his idea.
But all he did was stare at me.
“It seems like you want me to kill you.” I left behind the tactical vest, so my body was vulnerable to blades and gunfire.
“You kill me, and your brother is forgotten forever.”
“He’ll only be forgotten when I’m dead. And a little pussy like you isn’t going to kill me.”
His eyes flashed at the word little. Like he was insecure about the differences in our sizes—as he should be. I could brag about the way Astrid touched me and fucked me and cried for me when I made her come, but I kept it to myself out of respect for her. I’d never been the guy to fuck and brag, and I wouldn’t start now just because I despised this motherfucker. Astrid was far more important to me than a momentary jab.
“You traded Astrid for his remains, so don’t pretend they mean nothing to you.”
“They mean a lot to me—but she means more.” I felt the sting of betrayal in my throat, but I knew how my brother would feel about it. I could picture him beside me in the strip club, a cigar in his mouth with a stupid grin on his face. I’m already dead, Theo. Fuck his wife—and fuck her good.
Bolton did his best not to react to that, but the anger was there, far in the distance and growing. “She’s my wife. Step aside, and I’ll give you what you want—right now.”
If that wasn’t a lie, that meant my brother was in one of the cars, probably a pile of bones now. Mostly decomposed but still intact in some places. “She’s not your wife anymore, Bolton.”
He stared, his anger growing like an approaching tornado. It swelled in size as it picked up speed and debris. He already wanted me dead, but I saw the execution in his eyes. He took a step forward. “She’s. My. Wife.”
I saw the side of Bolton that Astrid had. The side that she had been subjected to, too powerful to escape or fight. “She was your wife, Bolton. Until you decided to hurt her.” It was the most I could say. If anything further came out, I would lunge at him with my knife aimed at his neck.
“Let her go?—”
“She’s not a prisoner.” I was insulted by the statement, that he automatically compared us as if we were the same. “She’s free to come and go as she pleases. She’s free to take you back if that’s what she wishes. But she’s made it very clear she’s exactly where she wants to be—and with the man she wants.”
Bolton struggled to retain his indifference, to hide the tremble of rage that shook his foundation. He didn’t blink. Didn’t shift his gaze elsewhere. He looked at me like I was a target at the shooting range. “She’s not worth dying for, Theo.”
If he managed to get her back, the past would repeat itself. He would confess his remorse for the shit he’d done, but he would just repeat those actions over and over. Cheaters cheated. Beaters beat. “I disagree, Bolton.”
He cocked his head as if I’d really slighted him. “Keep this up, and you’re going to end up in an oil drum—with four other oil drums around you.”
My eyes narrowed at the threat, not following his words but not wanting to admit any misunderstanding. “She doesn’t want you, Bolton. Move on with your life.”
“Let me talk to her?—”
“If she wants to call you, she’ll call. She hasn’t, so get the message.”
He took another step toward me. “I’m not the only one who wants you dead. You’re about to go to war on two fronts. You only march to the front lines for a woman if you love her. I know you don’t because you wouldn’t have given her up in the first place if that were the case.”
I knew exactly what he was doing—fishing.
He waited, expecting me to say something to that.
I didn’t. “Are we done here?”
The anger flashed in his eyes again. “Walk away, and his bones go into the incinerator.”
The depth of my struggle was invisible on my face but so potent on my heart it left a scar. Killian was more than my brother, more than my twin. He was the last person I’d been related to. To turn my back on him went against every instinct I had, every ounce of loyalty I felt for the people I cared about.