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It was no easy feat, but I was able to follow him to a seedy sex club just an hour ago.
I was careful to stay hidden as I snuck in behind him into the dingy building.
There was a lady smoking a cigarette behind a counter that was a little too high for her height.
“Name,” she demanded, not even lifting her eyes past the rim of her glasses.
“Marcus Stavros,” I lied, using a name Xander had given me from their visitor’s list.
She handed me a key card, still not looking up. “You may go.”
Then, I slipped through when I heard the buzzing of the door unlocking.
Inside, the air was thick with the mingling scents of sweat and sex. The stench was foul enough for my breath to catch. I navigated through the dimly lit corridors, catching glimpses of intimate encounters in shadowed corners.
I’m no stranger to sex clubs, but I’d never been to a place so sleazy.
Finally, I spotted him walking into a private room, being guided by a woman wearing nothing but a negligee and high heels. Anger simmered beneath my skin as I watched him.
He’d done nothing to me personally, but the thought of him being an accomplice to anything orchestrated by Philip made me want to string his neck.
Slipping on my black ski mask, I closed the distance between us, weaseling through the crack of the door before it could shut. My hand reached for the cloth tucked in my pocket, my grip tightening on the fabric.
The fucking idiot was so engrossed in his little rendezvous, he didn’t even notice me until it was too late.
In one swift motion, I pressed the cloth over his mouth and nose, cutting off his muffled protests. His eyes widened in shock before rolling back, consciousness slipping away as the sedative took effect.
The woman recoiled in terror, a yelp escaping her lips before she hastily covered her mouth with a trembling hand. I spared her only a glance before focusing on the man again.
I hoisted his limp body over my shoulder and made for the back exit, the woman’s terrified gaze following me until I vanished out the door. No one paid me any notice as I carried him through the club and outside, where my men waited in a van.
And now we’re here, in the basement of our main warehouse near Cebrene Harbor, and he still hasn’t answered my question. “Oh, Alexis. You have no idea how much fun I’ll have torturing you. It’ll make my job a lot easier if you simply cooperated. And a lot cleaner,” I say, looking down at my already soiled clothing. There are splatters of his blood on my trousers, from giving him a punch to the nose too many. That sure woke him the fuck up.
I reach over and grab the nail bat. It’s not the most sophisticated torture tool, but I had a lot of fun making it, and I fucking love baseball.
I stand by, swinging the bat around, watching him as his eyelids flutter, fighting both the remnant effects of the sedative and his fear.
I let out a sigh. “Fine. We’ll play, then,” I relent, pulling the bat back and swinging it onto his left knee. Blood splatters all over my clothes. My dry cleaners are going to have their work cut out for them.
His screams pierce the silence, his anguish reverberating through the very foundation of the warehouse above. Gasping for air, his face contorts with pain.
I observe him with detached curiosity. I should feel bad for him. Really, I don’t even know if he’s done anything wrong. Though he must’ve if he associates with men as corrupted as Philip.
Instead, I’m filled with an intoxicating rush, a perverse harmony that speaks to the depths of my depravity. I am not a good man right now. Perhaps I never have been.
Finally, after a series of sobs and desperate pleas, Alexis speaks.
“Philip is planning on giving his estate to Galanis instead of his son,” he blubbers.
I absorb the news, somehow both surprised and expectant. Philip passing his estate and clan to Andrew when he already has an heir?
Now we know the reason why Andrew is marrying Aria. I ignore the pang in my chest, my jaw locking. But it still doesn’t explain why Andrew of all people, when the piece of shit has nothing to offer Philip.
I bend over and shove my thumb into one of the open gashes in Alexis’s knee, He howls in pain.
“What does Andrew give in return?”
He stammers, struggling to reply between each bated breath. “His unwavering loyalty.” So, essentially, Philip got himself a little bitch. For what? I need answers, and I need them now.
