The Deity of Death (Virgins and Villains #3)

Chapter 13

13

MALIK

I n the heart of danger, I thrive.

Tiny red dots dart across my suit jacket from laser pointers attached to assault rifles fixed on my chest. I feel no fear at their threat. I’ve been here before, a thousand times over, staring death square in the eye.

It’s your time , he says, holding his bony hand to me.

But once again, I must decline. Until Melina is safe, I can’t leave.

The terror in Melina’s eyes wipes the smirk off my face. It’s easy to forget she’s the reason I feel so empowered now. She roused the beast that lay so dormant inside me for so long, and though I feel I’m in my element, I shouldn’t be so carefree when her safety hangs in the balance. I’m not living for myself anymore; I’m doing it for her. I want to pull her into my arms, whisper everything will be okay and that this is exactly what I expected.

“You see, Omar, for years, I bit my tongue, acted on all your childish whims, and played the good little lap dog that could handle every problem.” I walk behind Melina while I speak. When I get to her chair, I place my hands on her shoulders and stroke them gently with my thumbs. “But don’t get it mistaken, I’ve been gunning for your seat since the day we met.”

Melina takes my wrist in her hand, tilting her head up to me. Her deep blue eyes fill me with the confidence I need to finish this, no matter how hard it’s going to be.

“You dare lay a hand on my son’s wife?” Omar’s voice booms through the dining hall.

“That piece of shit wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like this. He’s better off with his whores.” I smile at my own joke.

Every breath Omar takes is a raspy growl. His face has turned several shades darker with his ever-growing fury. But somehow, when he speaks, his voice is diplomatic. “You’ve come here with a chip on your shoulder, and you’re parading through my walls like you own them already. Tell me what it is you think you’re going to get out of this, Pale Prophet.”

The name doesn’t have the same ring to it when Omar says it. Melina has tainted the Pale Prophet from being a warring battle cry to something beautiful.

“It’s not what I think I’m going to get; it’s what I’m taking.” I dip my chest over the backrest of the chair and press my lips against Melina’s. It’s gentle to start before my lustful desires kick in again, and my tongue bashes through the wall of her lips.

Even with her father right next to us, I can’t stop myself from letting my hands sink down her chest and onto her tits—squeezing the two, soft mounds and feeling the all too familiar throbbing in my loins.

Melina giggles, clutching onto my wrists and pulling them away. It fills me with joy to see her laugh when, moments ago, she wanted to break down and cry.

Lord, this woman is perfect.

“It’s almost over. I promise,” I whisper as I return my attention to Omar.

“What the hell was that?” To my surprise, it’s Henry who speaks first.

I pat him on the shoulder. Now isn’t the time to explain what’s been happening right under his nose.

“Melina’s mine. Claimed and marked.” I return my attention to Omar and Nasir. “If you want her, you’ll have to get through me. And before you try, do remember who you’re dealing with.”

Laborious grunts of anger and frustration barrel through Omar’s chest. Nasir cowers in his chair, awkwardly creating distance between himself and his father, with his arms wrapped around his own chest.

“You picked the wrong time to fuck with me,” Omar hisses. “We were so close to having everything we could have dreamed of.”

“At the expense of the woman I love.”

Melina’s head snaps back up at me at my admission. It feels wrong to make an admission like that under circumstances like this, but I can’t lie to myself or her any longer. I couldn’t have guessed it would come to this on the night we met.

But the deep, lustful urges and a constant, lingering desperation that never vanished had to lead somewhere. And why not confess it now when I’m about to kill or be killed?

“Truly touching.” Sarcasm drips like poison from Omar’s mouth. “My dog fell in love with a glorified whor?—”

I don’t let him finish the sentence.

In a flash, I reach for my pistol tucked behind my back and train it on his swollen forehead. He shuts his mouth mighty quick at the sight of the cold, hard steel.

“You speak to my woman like this?” My mockery and playfulness are replaced by a cold whisper.

Tension fills the void of silence while Omar’s brain works at rapid speeds to come up with a way out of this mess.

“Why hasn’t anyone shot him yet?” It’s Nasir who calls the order. “Why are you standing here doing nothing?”

“Because they’re not your men,” I answer for my soldiers. “You blast through life thinking you’re important because you’re the boss’ son. Offered ample opportunities to grow as a man and solidify your place in this world. But what have you done, Nasir?”

Omar leans so far back in his seat, the fat around his neck creates multiple new chins. Seeing fear in the eyes of one so powerful ignites the flames of pride in my heart.

“Don’t do this, Malik,” Nasir whimpers.

His pleas fall on deaf ears.

“Every man standing in this room accompanied me on the day we came for you, Nasir. If you didn’t care about anyone but yourself, perhaps you would have been able to save his life.” I turn my attention to Melina. “Cover your ears and shut your eyes.”

She does, and though I didn’t give him the same instruction, Henry does too.

“Malik, no, wa—” Nasir launches forward to try and stop me.

I squeeze the trigger twice, both bullets aimed directly at Omar’s heart. He’s dead before his body falls motionless.

Tears stream down Nasir’s cheeks, and he drops beside his father’s corpse.

“Your father’s empire is mine now. Do you understand?” I don’t threaten Nasir with the gun. I don’t have to. “You’re going to pack your shit, take Omar’s bloated corpse, and fuck off. And if I see you again, Nasir, I’ll do to you what I should have all those years ago.”

Melina keeps her eyes and ears shut tight, even while I help her up from her seat. Henry is less concerned about seeing Omar dead.

“The bastard is dead,” Henry Remington announces while I cradle Melina into my chest. He turns to me and sets a reassuring hand on my elbow. “Long live the king.”