Claimed by my Brother’s Best Friends (Alyssa) novel Chapter 44

I move through the crowd casually, heading towards the bathroom with my eyes darting around for cameras. Satisfied that the coast is clear, I slip inside, the smell of piss, vomit, and bleach assaulting my senses.

I nearly gag. Fuck. I wasn't ready.

Bruno's at the urinal, whistling something off-key as he pisses. He doesn't even glance up as I stop behind him, too lost in his own world. Of course, he wouldn't expect the grim reaper to find him here, in this filthy fucking restroom in a strip club I'd rather never step foot inside again.

His phone rings, snapping him out of whatever drunken stupor he's in. He answers it with a snarl, his voice dripping with venom. "Diane, why the fuck are you calling me?" I can almost hear the fear in his wife's voice, the dread of what he'll do to her once he gets home. "No. You don't need to know where I am. I'll be home when I get home. Call me again, and you'll regret it."

I wonder if Isaac spoke to my kitten like that. The thought has fury coursing through my veins, but I know killing Bruno in place of what I want to do to her husband would be hard to clean up right now.

And Gray specifically said he was to be left alive.

"Stupid bitch," Bruno slurs, hanging up and shoving his phone back into his pocket.

He zips up, turning to leave, probably without washing his filthy fucking hands. But when he sees me, he freezes, his face going as pale as the walls would be if they were actually cleaned. I smirk, letting the moment stretch, watching the recognition and fear bleed into his expression. He knows exactly who I am and why I'm here.

"W-What are you doing here?" he stammers, and I swear, he must not have emptied his bladder all the way because the sharp stench of urine suddenly permeates the air.

His eyes dart toward the door, his fight-or-flight instincts kicking in. But he should know better than to run. Predators like me love the chase.

I pull out my knife, the blade catching the light. The sound of it sliding from its sheath is music to my ears, a prelude to the violence that's about to take place. "The payment is only one finger, but if you keep making this difficult..." I pause, twirling the blade in my hand with practiced ease. "I can add on the interest. But let me warn you—I tend to get a little carried away when I'm having fun."

He's sobbing now, full-on, his pleas turning into desperate, incoherent blubbering. His whole body shakes as he reluctantly places his hand on the dirty sink, accepting his fate with trembling fingers. "Okay. Go ahead," he chokes out, tears streaming down his face.

With a wolfish grin, I position the knife just above his index finger, my voice a dark murmur. "Hold still, Albert. This is gonna hurt. A lot."