As I drop the first bite of juicy steak into my mouth, I roll it around and groan in satisfaction. I guess life can still be good, but as I’m chewing, I realize that I can no longer hear Levi’s drumming and it only goes to remind me that from here on out, not all parts of life are going to be good.
I pause to listen, but just as my head snaps up, the three assholes appear in the open entryway of the massive dining room.
Dread flitters through me as I take them in. Marcus looks chill as fuck with a joint in his hand and a lighter in the other. Levi still grips his drumsticks and looks as though he’s pissed that his brothers have called him away from his drums, while Roman just wears his signature scowl.
I swallow hard as I grab the plate from off my legs. “So,” I say, lowering my tone as a forced, wicked grin stretches across my face. “How do you like your steak?”
A cockiness pulls at Marcus’ lips as he strides deeper into the room, walking straight by me to his favorite position at the head of the table. “Fucking raw.”
Roman scoffs to himself. “Right, you seem more like a medium done kinda guy to me.”
A knife flies straight across the room, the tip skimming past my face and narrowly missing Roman’s eye before plunging deep into the wall behind his head. Roman doesn’t even look up and it leaves me wondering just how common flying knives are around here. Maybe that scar on his face was more of a ‘serial killers will be serial killers’ type of incident rather than a fucked the wrong man’s wife one.
Levi is the last to take his seat. He’s the closest to me with both of his brothers at opposite ends. His drumsticks rest in his hands, and as he leans back in his chair, he lightly drums them against the wooden table. “How do you want to do this?” he questions, getting straight to the point as I take in the way that his brothers cautiously eye me, waiting for me to freak out.
Nerves filter through my body as my gaze drops to his hands, remembering just how skilled they really are. “What do you mean?” I ask with a shaky breath, feeling completely surrounded.
“Last night,” he confirms as if he didn’t already know that we’re more than on the same page. “Are we pretending that it didn’t happen, or do you need to vent your frustrations?”
My eyes bug out of my head and I gape at him in horror. “Frustrations? That’s what you’re calling it? You guys slaughtered those men as though they didn’t have family or friends. You’re monsters.”
“Great,” Roman mutters darkly. “She wants to talk about it.”
“I don’t want to talk about shit,” I throw back at him, more than prepared to throw a knife at him just like Marcus had. Though my aim wouldn’t be nearly as great. “Trust me, I’m doing everything that I can to pretend I didn’t see what you did last night, but it’s not that easy. The images in my head … they won’t go away.”
Marcus sighs. “You do understand what they were going to do to you, right? They weren’t preparing you for a fucking ping-pong show.”
I give him a hard stare. “Of course I know what they wanted to do. I’m not fucking stupid. But slaughtering men isn’t the way to go about it. There’s something seriously not right with you guys. How can you just sit here and act like this isn’t a big deal?”
“Because it’s not,” Levi says. “Would you have preferred that we just sat back and let it happen?”
“Of course not,” I growl, the frustration quickly getting the best of me as my gaze drops back to my steak and I violently start cutting it into pieces, more than likely scratching the shit out of the expensive plate below.
“So, it’s settled. We saved the girl,” Marcus says proudly. “We’re the fucking heroes that you never knew you needed.”
My glare shoots straight down the table, boring into his with a ferociousness I wasn’t aware I was capable of. I hold up my steak knife. “Bring me your other hand. Let me show you my latest party trick.”
Excitement bubbles in his dark stare, and the longer he holds me hostage with it, the more heated it becomes. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he warns.
Fuck, for just a moment, I forgot how deranged this psychopath was.
My gaze narrows and I refuse to be the first to look away, but there’s no way in hell that I have what it takes to win this round. A twisted grin edges across his face, and as he drops his chin and watches me through his thick row of lashes, I have no choice but to succumb.