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Chapter 12

SAINT'S POV

"Let's have some fun." I declared.

"Come on man, I didn't do shit." The bastard cries out, he sniffles, snot leaking down his trembling bruised lips.

I roll my neck, groaning as the muscles pop. It's going to be a long fucking night.

"You've done plenty of shit Andrew." I say casually patting him on the cheek with the blade.

I never really thought that I'd kill a man over the dumbest shit. Yet here I am pointing a weapon at him in-front of my tied up drunk wife.

Christ this marriage is already fucked, either way I don't mind the craziness between us. I want it actually.

I lift my gaze to Irena, her glare is cold hidden behind her true feelings, fear. It drips from her features like blood oozing out of an open wound. This is the exact reaction I'm looking for.

Fear.