Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Miguel made a slow nod, wordlessly begging for him to take the deal, but Nero refused to give in to pressure so easily. “I want to discuss it with him. Take out the gag,” he demanded, pinning his gaze to first Ramiro, then Doctor Zapata, who he assumed would be more pliant. But the old bastard didn’t move an inch, as if the question had frozen his joints.
“Did I stutter?” Nero asked, raising his voice.
Instead of doing as told to seal their deal, Ramiro stepped behind the back of the medical chair, as if he needed to use Miguel as a human shield.
“That… will not be possible. And I need to remind you, if you shoot me, I will not only gut him. You’ll also be killing his sister,” Ramiro said in a sharp whisper that echoed off the bare walls.
“Mr. M-Moreno, I only did as I was told. If anything, I supervised the procedure to make sure he didn’t die,” Doctor Zapata said, raising his palms. His face was almost as pale as the suit he was wearing.
Heat clawed at Nero’s head as he attempted to understand what this was about, but when his gaze once more drifted to the large bloodstain at the very front of Miguel’s top, his mind screamed that it might not be the result of a beating, and that the gauze wasn’t just a gag. Breathless, he spotted a lump of flesh lying on the floor, close to Ramiro’s shoe.
A piece of tongue.
His vision clouded with smoke, and he stepped forward, guided by the need to shove his nails into Ramiro’s eyes.
“You motherfucker!”
Ramiro must have understood Nero was on the edge of losing it, because he pressed the barrel of his gun to Miguel’s head. “You might shoot me, but I will pull the trigger.”
Miguel let out a little moan, making Nero guilty over focusing on his anger when his man was in pain and bleeding into that gag. Miguel was so fucking pale he looked like one of those horrific medieval depictions of Christ on the cross.
Nero roared. “Fuck!”
“Mr. Moreno—” Zapata tried, and Nero barely restrained himself from shooting him, because that could have provoked Ramiro.
“Shut the fuck up, you worthless cunt!”
Torn between ripping Ramiro apart and wanting to drop everything to carry Miguel out of here, he was locked in a state of impotent rage despite the machine gun in his hands.
Ramiro cleared his throat. “Since you wished to consult with him… Do you accept the deal, Miguel?”
Miguel shuddered but lifted his head and met Nero’s eyes, nodding.
With teeth sinking into the delicate flesh of his inner cheek, Nero kept still, focusing on the tension in his muscles rather than the fire they were attempting to contain, because once it was loose, it would consume everything in its path. Even the man Nero sought to protect.
“Fine. You will get what you need, but if he doesn’t survive this, I will find you and replace your eyes with your own balls.”
Ramiro nodded but didn’t flinch at the threat. “He is awaited at the nearest hospital. You can take any car parked outside.”
Nero glared at Zapata. “If this deal is to be just between you and both of us, what about the witness?”
Ramiro raised his arm to the side and shot. The bullet went straight through the side of Zapata’s head, leaving him with a stunned expression as he dropped to the bloodstained floor.
“What witnesses?” Ramiro said with a smile Nero itched to rip off with his sharpened teeth. And he would have if he weren’t cuffed with the invisible chains of their agreement.
He’d given his word, and while his heart wouldn’t find peace before the bastard’s head lay crushed under his foot, Miguel’s eyes begged him to give up on revenge.
Nero had to obey.
“Okay. So… what should I do? Write you an email with the passcodes?”
“I’m leaving first. You can grab Cano’s phone from his pocket on the way out, and I will call you once he’s been treated. The pin number is 4556. When I confirm the codes work, you will get his sister, and I’ll inform everyone that you’re dead.” Ramiro stepped back and away from Miguel. He put his gun into the holster and pulled up his sleeve before making a small cut on his arm, under a whole ladder of scars with the same knife that he’d used to carve Miguel’s flesh. “That is my promise.”
Nero expected to feel the tension inside him subside at the sight of the gesture, but the primal part of him still wanted to tear out Ramiro’s guts for what he’d done. So he nodded and dropped the rifle to the floor. “Fine. Go.”
When Nero finally approached Miguel, Ramiro skittered away like a cockroach and it gave Nero some pleasure to hear how fast he ran down the corridor. But there was no time to indulge in the pleasure of being feared when Miguel was still bound and bleeding.