Page 145 of Shattered Veil

I stomp his shoulder, feeling it dislocate with a satisfying pop, and when Wes tries to guard his face, he can’t. He can’t move that arm.

This isn’t me. This isn’t me.

I don’t have the stomach for this, but I will that nonsense away because it’s who I have to be for Ella. For our family. There can never be a shadow of doubt in her mind that I can’t protect them with my bare hands.

The scent of blood fills this disgusting basement and competes with mold and wet cement.

Wesley gurgles on his own blood. With my good hand, I squeeze his neck to crush his larynx.

“You choked her like this, didn’t you? How do you like it?”

I feel the air trying to pass my tightened fist around his neck. He kicks uselessly until his eyes roll into the back of his head.

I allow this scumbag one desperate gasp to watch him suffer more. My specialty. The more he whines and cries and pisses himself, the more it fuels me to keep going.

His suffering thrills me more than I ever thought it would. But it’s for her. Ella. The woman I love, who’s having my babies.

Every groan and screech from Wesley’s fucked-up face and shaky voice only ignites images of how he beat up Ella. How he caused her pain with no regret or remorse or mercy.

My hand is on fire, but I keep hitting him, even when he stops moving.

Griffin Quinlan pulls me away. “Mate, the plan.”

My right hand’s a bloodied mess and with crimson splatter all over my clothes, I turn back to Ella.

Jaw dropped, she breathes heavily. But I see no fear inher face witnessing whatI’mcapable of.

This is for you, butterfly.

Only you.

Wesley is a wheezing puddle, and to kill him would put him out of his misery. I won’t. Not yet. I want him to suffer even more.

And Griffin is right, we have a plan.

“Bring him in,” I say, wiping the sweat from my forehead, feeling blood smear across my skin like a warrior.

“Bring who in?” Ella says, looking around.

Connor Quinlan drags in her father, his wrists chained up. Snow’s dark hair is all over the place, a mess, but without a single bruise on his body.

A purposeful move. A courtesy for the woman I love. I have something worse for Snow. Something much more painful.

“Dad!” Ella cries out. “Balor, what are you doing?”

“Tell her, Iceman.” I glare at him. “Tell hereverything.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

Ella

My father is a global cyber-terrorist.

As I shiver in the blanket, my arms and legs bandaged, Balor makes Dad stand before me to confess his many crimes and sins.

My head is spinning.

Perhaps he didn’t intend to hurt anyone, but according to Balor, his cyber-attacks during Christmas week resulted in the deaths of hundreds of people across the globe. His ransomware virus may have hurt them indirectly, their deaths circumstantial, but he’s still responsible.