Page 110 of Condemned By Betrayal
Bruno’s body stiffens at my tone. He rises to his paws with a predatory gait. Rosie stays put.
With Bruno, I head in the direction Alessio went.
Matleon takes us to a place they call Saint Stone. I know about it. Just a few months ago, I was supposed to destroy it. This place houses their finest weapons and their prisoners. It has forty floors: only two above ground, with the rest buried beneath it.
“What will you do with the dog?” he asks as we leave the elevator on the twenty-sixth floor below ground.
“He’s for help.”
During my time as Hunter, I saw how capable Bruno was as a hunter within just a few days of staying with them. He’s only a cuddle dog around Elowen. In her presence, he hides his predator side so well that I’m certain she has no idea what he’s truly capable of. Once I realized that, I started training him and Rosie. She isn’t as naturally skilled as him, as she was never trained, but she’s a strong dog too.
Matleon takes us into a gray room. In the center, that bastard sits strapped to an iron chair, metal restraints locked around his wrists and body, keeping him in place.
He looks between Matleon and me as we enter. They haven’t tortured him. He’s still wearing clean clothes, not a single dropof blood on him. I don’t like it one bit. But it’s better this way. I’d give anything to see him opened up in front of me.
As I study him, I notice claw marks on his neck. Looks like Bruno or Rosie has already tasted him. My brow furrows.Why would either of them attack him?
I turn to Matleon. “Did Bruno or Rosie attack him?”
He nods, eyes fixed on the bastard. “In Naples.”
“Why?”
“Remi said Wen told him they were playing. I doubt that.”
Me too.
I turn back to him and step closer. “Why did Bruno and Rosie attack you?”
He holds my gaze, jaw clenched. I’ll give him this, among all of Chris’s men I’ve met, he’s got the biggest balls. None of them could hold my gaze, including Chris, but he does.
As I step closer, he looks away, but his jaw remains clenched. I reach him, grab his filthy hair, and twist it at the roots until his scalp strains. I force his head back and make him look at me.
“Did you try something with her?”
He doesn’t speak. I release his head and drive my fist into his face. Bone cracks, echoing through the room. Blood and teeth spray the floor. His nose gushes, dark red spilling over his lips, down his chin, and dripping onto his shirt.
“Did.” Another punch. His cheekbone caves under my knuckles with a sickening crunch. “You.” Another punch. His eye socket splits, skin tearing open. “Do.” Another punch. His lip shreds against his teeth. “Something.” Another punch. His jaw unhinges. “To.” Another punch. Cartilage collapses under my fist. “Her?” One last punch. His face caves inward, nose flattened, jaw hanging loose, one eye swelling shut.
What’s left is pulp. Blood and torn flesh smeared across bone.This was my fucking face. These bastards stole it.
The bastard still laughs. “I touched her cunt.” The words come out in a gargle, thick with blood, and my mind blanks. The world goes red. Rage swallows everything.
I force his shattered mouth open. His broken jaw resists, grinding against itself, but I pry it wide enough to reach inside. I find his tongue and yank it out in one pull. The root tears. Blood floods his mouth, pours down his throat, and spills over my hands in hot pulses.
Then my thumbs sink into the sockets, past the resistance of flesh, until I feel them burst in a gelatinous give. I gouge his eyes. Fluid runs down my wrists. He’s screaming now, or trying to. The sound is strangled.
Matleon steps to my side and releases his hands from the chair with a press of the handcuff lock. I needed that. The moment his hands are free, I grab one. I tear his fingers apart one by one, starting with the index. Knuckles pop. Tendons snap. Bones splinter. I shove each severed digit into his screaming, tongueless mouth until the cries muffle into near silence.
Once I’m done, I step back. My hands are drenched. My clothes are soaked through with his blood. The rage isn’t fading. It’s still there, and it won’t stop until I’ve torn down every part of him.
I step back and call for Bruno.
He comes to me, his fur standing straight, making him look twice his size. His gaze shifts between me and the man slumped in the chair.
I take two more steps back. “Go.”
A growl rumbles deep in Bruno’s chest, echoing through the empty room, then he lunges at Hunter. That’s him. The real Hunter Blackwood.
