Page 71 of Sinful Lord

“When you get back, you can do plenty for me. For one, you can put an end to that disgusting camgirl ring of yours and set whoever’s still trapped free. Then, you can go ahead and leave the underworld altogether. If I’m feeling righteous, I might just keep those tapes tucked away and let you run your daddy’s company. Anything to keep you out of my world. But none of that really matters because that’s not what I want most.”

“…. What do you want most?” Yasha gulps.

“For you to leave me the fuck alone. Forever.”

To my surprise, Yasha hesitates to accept this term.

She’s fucking crazy.

“Fine,” she finally mumbles. “I’ll leave you alone.”

“Good. Now, was that so hard?”

The defeat on her face almost makes me feel bad. But when her chin falls to her chest and her eyes close, I remember how she thought she could seduce me into forgiveness.

I remember what she’s done.

Those scrapes I saw on Melina’s arm, they’re Yasha’s fault. The trauma my little runaway endured has direct ties to what Yasha started.

It’s despicable. She’s despicable. An evil little rich girl who thinks exploitation was a fun way to rebel against her father.

How many have suffered because of her? How many more will before I have the time to put an end to it?

“You can get in the passenger seat instead of the trunk,” I grunt, taking a step back to give her some breathing room.

As much as I loathe this woman, it only takes a deep breath to calm me down and clear my mind.

I’m not the type who shoves women in the trunks of cars, and I don’t want to be—no matter how much this one might deserve it.

Still, I’m in a hurry, and my patience is already wearing thin. Especially as Yasha ignores me so she can pout a little longer.

“I’ll count down from three,” I say. “If you don’t move by one, then I might just change my mind. Three… Two…”

“One.”

The strange, deep voice suddenly appears from behind me.

It’s accompanied by the cold steel of an unfriendly muzzle. The pressure pushes into the back of my skull.

“What the fuck…” I grumble.

Yasha’s sad gaze rips off the ground. Her wide eyes stare at someone standing just behind me.

“Go,” the stranger orders to her.

Yasha only hesitates for a second before complying. She doesn’t even give me a final look as she brushes past my shoulder.

When I try and turn around, the gun is shoved deeper into my skull.

“Don’t fucking move,” the stranger growls.

But my fingers are already clenching, my hands slowly moving to the gun tucked beneath my belt.

Before I can reach it, though, I hear the crunching of glass. Yasha’s car door slams shut. Tires squeal as she pulls away.

“Fuck!” I roar. “You fucking son of a bitch. Do you have any idea who the fuck you’re messing with?”

My growing fury blinds me from the risk of reaching for my gun. I keep inching closer to the hidden handle, even if I know it’s stupid. Whoever’s holding their gun to my head is too close. One wrong move and it’s all over. But I’m too angry to care…