Page 35 of Explosive Union

Each step I take, my shoes stick to the floor. I need to burn these fucking clothes when I’m finished here. To my left is a woman who’s lying on the floor. She looks asleep, but on closer inspection, her face is pale, her lips are blue, she’s unmoving, and she’s got sick trickling from her mouth. Dead. She’s fucking dead. Laying on the floor without anyone noticing that she’s no longer alive.

I pass yet another made man fucking a woman.

My anger has reached boiling point, and I’m about to fucking blow.

There’s not an ounce of product here, so where the fuck is it?

I push through the door that leads to an office and see Dawkins himself thrusting into a woman who is also strung out on fuck knows what.

“Out,” I snarl, and the woman screams, her head flying back. But she’s not screaming in fright. Fuck no, she’s riding Dawkins’ dick hard, loving the fact that someone is here watching. “Dawkins, if you want to live past today, take your fucking cock out of the woman and get out here now.” I instruct as I take a step outside of the office. If he doesn’t come out within five minutes, I’m torching this motherfucker to the ground along with everyone in it.

I’m done with this fuckery.

I stand against the wall with my arms crossed over my chest. I already know what I’m going to do with this fucking place. It’s getting burned to ashes. The two that were fucking in here are now gone, but I already saw them. I know each and every single one of the men that are here getting their dicks wet.

Elio comes into the room, his eyes hard and flinty. “I see you didn’t stop the fucking orgy that’s happening,” he says with a scowl.

“Nope, but I stopped the one in the office.”

He shakes his head and does a double take when he sees the girl lying on the floor. “Fucking hell,” he hisses. “Roc, she’s barely an adult.”

I have my doubts that any of the women here are over the age of eighteen. Our men know the rules. We do not touch kids. Ever.

“Who’s coming?” I ask, wondering if he’s called our father.

“Andrea, Gabriele, Edoardo, Niccolò, along with some of the soldiers. Dario will be joining us shortly.”

The men are the captains. They, like us, will not be happy seeing this shit.

“The boss has said he trusts you to sort this out,” Elio informs me.

I blink. “Really?” I drawl.

I don’t trust this shit. Our father has never believed that his sons were capable of leading, and all of a sudden, he trusts me to deal with the drugs and those who have wronged us?

“My thoughts exactly. What the hell is he up to?” Elio voices my own concerns.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” I tell him. I’m a hardheaded son of a bitch, and I’m making it my mission to find out what the hell my father is up to.

The door to the office opens, and Dawkins exits, his shirt untucked, his pants unbuttoned, and his hair in disarray. His face is gaunt, and when he smiles at us, I notice he’s missing a few teeth.

My gaze goes to my brother, who shakes his head, understanding my silent question. No, the fucker wasn’t like this when he took the job.

“Gentleman, I wasn’t expecting you,” he stutters.

“We do not owe you a call to let you know we are arriving,” I snap at his lack of respect.

He shakes his head, hard and fast. “Of course, of course. What can I help you with?”

My stare hardens on him, and he doesn’t do a great job of hiding his flinch. His hands are shaking, and his eyes are wide, not to mention his gaze keeps darting from Elio and I to the exit. He’s jittery, and I don’t fucking like it.

“What can you help us with?” I echo. “How about what the fuck has happened here?”

His gaze once again goes to the exit, and I nod for Elio to cover it. This fucker is not making a run for it. Fuck no.

“I don’t understand,” he says. “What do you mean?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m so close to reaching for my gun and offing the bastard. How the hell was he hired when he’s so stupid? Firstly, allowing the men to take the product; secondly, using said product for himself; and thirdly, and most importantly, lying to us. Does he have no idea who we are? He’s playing a dangerous game, one that’s going to only end one way. Him in a body bag.