Page 45 of Luca
“What the fuck are you going to do?” Fear laced his voice, a tremor that excited my dark instincts.
“Well, first I’m going to play. Let you feel a little bit of the terror Julie must have felt that night. Then I’m going to ask the rest of my questions, and you’ll tell me what I want to know, or I will continue to play until you do, or die, whichever happens first.” I smiled, the wicked glint in my eyes matching the intensity of my words. Of course, I had no intention of killing him, but he didn’t need to know that.
He gulped in fear, eyes widening as the knife made its way toward the skin of his exposed chest.
“Wait, no, fuck. I’ll tell you, whatever you want to know. I’ll tell you,” he screamed, desperation flooding his voice.
“Yes, you will. But not until you’ve had a little taste of a knife sliding through your skin, just like it did through Julie’s. Gag him,” I instructed Vlad.
“No…” McDougall screamed, but the sound was muffled as his ruined T-shirt was wrapped around his mouth.
Over the next few minutes, I slowly cut into him, making shallow cuts that brought him pain, just as my dad and Alexi had taught me. And enjoying every second of it. This man would feel at my hands, all the fear Julie must have at his.
Tears flowed down his face as he screamed behind his gag with each small laceration I made. When he finally pissed himself, I decided he’d had enough.
“That was for Julie. Now answer my questions or you’ll get more for your part in framing me for her murder. Understand?”
He nodded, and satisfaction flowed through me. A short while later, I had the answers I wanted, and he was still alive—for now.
Leaving Vlad and Trigger to watch over him, the rest of us returned home to put the final touches on our plan to lure the MP into a trap of our own.
CHAPTER 27
CLAIRE
A FEW DAYS LATER – ATTACKED
The firm’s conference room buzzed with conversation and clinking glasses, the familiar hum of ambition and success surrounding me. I lingered near the back, holding a glass of champagne, listening as Donald Turner—Old Man Turner to everyone—gave his retirement speech. He’d built Turner and Hanson into one of the most respected law firms in the city, and tonight was his swan song. Partners, associates, and barristers crowded the room, all here to celebrate the legacy of a man who had spent his life defending the law.
“It’s been a privilege,” he began, his voice carrying authority, commanding the room’s attention as he’d commanded the courtroom for the past forty years. “I’ve seen this firm through its highs and lows, and now it’s time to pass the mantle on to younger folk.”
He raised his glass toward his grandson, Damien Turner, who stood proudly beside his mother, Margaret. “Damien, you’ve proven yourself time and again. Our youngest partner yet. You’re going to take this firm to new heights, and I’ll be watching with pride as you do.”
“Grandfather,” Damien said in his crisp, upper-class English accent, lifting his glass in response. He looked around theroom with a smug smile, soaking in the praise. The epitome of a privileged upbringing, he wore his entitlement like a badge of honour. He was exactly where he wanted to be, where he believed he was destined to be—partly because of his talent, but mostly because of his family name. I watched, feeling a mix of envy and determination. Damien was on the fast track, but I’d fought for every inch of my success.
“And Claire Benson,” Turner continued, his gaze shifting to me. “One of our brightest. With the results you’ve been delivering, it won’t be long before we’re celebrating your partnership, too.”
The applause that followed warmed me, a comforting validation of the years I’d spent proving myself. I raised my glass, catching Old Man Turner’s eye. “Thank you, Mr Turner. I’ve learned from the best.”
He nodded, his smile crinkling the lines of his well-worn face. “And now, it’s my turn to step aside, leave the office behind, and spend more time on the golf course. So, if any of you fancy a round or two, you know where to find me.”
The room erupted in applause once more, a fitting send-off for a man who had dedicated his life to the firm. As he stepped back, I was swept up by the buzz of congratulations, colleagues offering praise and encouragement. For a moment, everything felt like it was finally falling into place. This firm had been my world for years, and making partner wasn’t just a title—it was validation, proof that every late night and sacrifice had been worth it. I had fought for every opportunity, and the dream of partnership was inching closer to reality.
Eventually, the crowd began to thin as the night wore on. I excused myself and headed back to my office. I still had some paperwork to wrap up before I could call it a night, and I wanted to leave, knowing I’d cleared my desk for the weekend. I typed up my final report. it was Friday night, and I was longing to gethome. Vlad would be bored sitting outside waiting for me all of this time.
As I finished tidying up my desk, I pulled out my phone and texted Luca.
Hey honey, I’m just finishing up now. Miss you. x
His response came quickly, laced with his usual warmth.
Miss you too, babe. Can’t wait to have you back in my arms. x
I smiled at his words, a rush of anticipation swelling within me. I glanced at the clock, feeling that familiar excitement of knowing I’d be home soon. Just as I was about to gather my things and leave, I heard footsteps approaching my office.
There was a knock at my door. I looked up, expecting to see one of the other associates. Instead, it was Damien, leaning against the frame with an easy smile, his tie loosened and eyes hazy from too much champagne. There was a cockiness about him that always rubbed me the wrong way.
“Evening, Claire,” he drawled, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He didn’t just shut it; he locked it, the click of the mechanism sending a ripple of unease through me.