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Armando had hinted as much. Roman wasn’t sure how to feel discovering his uncle was telling the truth. He took a deep breath, squatting down in front of Teague. He looked into his eyes and spoke almost gently. “Teague, you’ve made so many mistakes.”
Teague nodded his head vigorously, looking like one of those bobble-head dolls. “I know. I know I have. But please, Roman. I’ll do anything. Don’t kill me. I don’t want to die.”
“I can see that,” Roman acknowledged. He reached out, gratified when Teague flinched. All he did was touch a finger to one of the bruises inflicted by Colt. Roman was going to give the bodyguard a very large bonus. “You have such a strong desire to survive. Do you know what I’ve discovered over the years? How a will to live can so easily be turned into a craving for death. A little bit of pain—or a lot, rather—so easily tips the balance.”
As Roman stood up, Morrigan sneered down at Teague. “They always start by pleading for survival. But in the end, they beg for death. And so will you.”
Teague noticeably shuddered. “Rom—”
Roman’s hand shot out, his fist smashing through Teague’s face with such force that it broke the doomed man’s jaw. “Good,” Roman said with satisfaction. “I don’t want to hear my name on your lips again.”
He took a moment to feel sorry for the years of good service Teague had dedicated to him and his business. Regret was a rather useless emotion. It never changed anything, and it wasn’t about to start now. So, Roman got to work.
“Abel, hand me the scalpel,” he requested. He did so happily and Roman held it up, the light glinting off the razor-sharp blade. “Given that your stupidity directly affected Angel, I thought the scalpel would be fitting. Tell me, have you ever heard of death by a thousand cuts?”
Roman shared the medical instrument with his friends over the next hour. By the time they had finished with Teague, blood was flowing like a river from too many slices to count. The floor was covered and so were they. He’d been careful not to cut any arteries early on. He didn’t want the man to die too soon. But Roman didn’t think it was going to matter. Teague’s breath was rapid and shallow, and he was twitching involuntarily, his motor control completely shot to hell.
“Do you have anything else to say?” Roman asked tiredly. He was done and wanted to check on Angel.
Teague’s jaw was very swollen, but he was still able to utter a few garbled words. “Godfrey and Armando...” he slurred, the life rapidly leaving his eyes. “They... weren’t... the only ones...”
Roman went to question him further, but it was too late. Teague released one last labored breath, then breathed no more.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Angela found him on the rooftop, much the same as he had her a few days before. “Roman?” she called softly. “Do you want to be alone?”
He immediately turned away from the view and looked at her. “Alone with you? Always.”
They both knew it wasn’t what she meant, but she smiled and made her way to him. “Are you okay?”
Roman’s face was carefully blank. “Of course.”
She gave him a knowing look. He was hurting. It made her so angry at Teague. “You don’t have to be, you know. I know he worked for you for a long time. I know you considered him to be a friend.”
Roman lost his stiff posture, acknowledging, “I did. Unfortunately, he isn’t the first friend to betray me, and he won’t be the last. I’m okay, Angel. I promise you. Besides, I should be asking you how you’re doing.”
She was feeling very conflicted, so she went with the simplest response. “The Foreman is dead.”
“Very,” Roman confirmed. “You saw to that.”
Angela looked down at her hands. Hands that had once again killed. “I did, didn’t I?”
Roman watched her shrewdly. “It bothers you.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to deny it, but Roman was always honest with her. She owed him the same courtesy. “It does.”
Roman made a pained sound, taking her hands in his. “Angel, I am so sorry you were forced to do that.”
She halted his flow of words with a finger to his lips. “I’m not bothered in the way you think. I don’t care that he’s dead. I don’t care that I was the one to make him that way. And I don’t regret it. I would do it again to save you—or any of you. Hell, I’d do it to save a mongrel dog on the street.”
Roman nodded, keeping his gaze steady on hers. He was like a solid wall of support. “Then what’s the problem?”
“I’m worried you see me differently now,” she blurted out in a rush.
He looked shocked by her admission. “What? Nothing could change the way I feel about you.”
“Are you sure about that?” She tugged her hands free and walked over to the railing. “You call me your light, Roman. Doesn’t that mean you need me to stop the darkness? What if, now that I’ve killed a man in front of you, you think my light is dimmed?”
