“You’re as stupid as your father,” he states. “Colton Reed was an idiot. And that whore of a wife made him weak.”
My hand is around his throat before he can take another breath.
“Say another word about my mother, and I’ll kill you right here.”
Alexander doesn’t react to my words or the assault. There’s not even a drop of fear in his eyes like it doesn’t faze him at all.
Out of the corner of my vision, I see a gun pointed right at my head, but I don’t give a shit.
“Drop them,” Easton says, and I know they all have their weapons pointed at the bastards, but they still don’t move.
After a moment, Alexander raises a hand, and they slowly drop their arms.
“On the ground,” East says, and they do as they’re told, kicking the guns towards our men.
I tighten my hand around his throat even more, but he only smirks at me.
“But she—” Gasp. “Wasn’t really—” Gasp. “Your mother… was she?”
My fist cracks against his jaw, again and again, before I pull his face to mine by his throat.
It’s not a fucking secret that Elena Reed didn’t give birth to me, but she was and always will be my mother.
I stare into his black depths, so dark there’s barely any of the blue left. They’re almost eerie.
A slow smile spreads across his face, blood covering his teeth and dripping from the corner of his mouth.
Sadistic fucker.
I don’t have time for this.
I squeeze my hand as hard as I can, completely cutting off his oxygen, and his smile drops—his eyes burning into mine, and I know I’ve won.
“If I ever see you again, Iwillkill you,” I promise, throwing his ass to the ground and walking straight out of the building without looking back.
“Sebastian!” Easton calls, following me outside.
“What the fuck was that, East!” I hiss.
“You’re asking the wrong fucking person, Bas,” he says, levelling me with a stare.
I sigh and get into the′67 Mustang, slamming the door shut. Easton’s just behind me, and his wheels screech as he takes off.
What the fuck just happened?
Easton doesn’t say anything, and I can tell by the way his jaw is clenched and the tight grip on the steering wheel, it’s for the best.
Even when we arrive back at the office, he remains silent. The same tension is visible. There’s also no chance he’s going to come up to the office right now. At least not with me and who I’m about to fuckingtalkto.
The door to Vincent’s office slams against the wall as I storm in.
“Sebastian, what are you doing? I’m in a meeting.” He stands.
“Out,” I tell whoever the fuck he’s meeting with. The man looks from me to Vincent, unsure what to do.
“Out!”
He scurries out of the office, and I slam the door shut behind him.