Ruin (Rhodes #1) by Rina Kent

                             “Don’t be absurd,” Aaron’s brother says in a curt tone. “How would I know he came to kill you?”

                             Who came to kill Aaron? The man who beat me? He did say something about ruining ‘that fucker’. Was I used in this? Did he have an agenda against Aaron and I was a pawn in their little game?

                             The burning that I’ve been trying to ignore all this time fires up in my chest. How dare they hurt me for their sick agendas?

                             “What’s done is done.” The third man in a tuxedo steps closer to Aaron and his brother. His eyes are steel grey, no, they’re green. A mixture of grey and green? His voice is even more polite than Aaron’s in his best states. “It’s useless to ponder on what happened. What we need right now is an appropriate plan to deal with the collateral damage.” He pauses, glancing between Aaron and his brother. “Everyone knows that the last place where Hampton has been seen alive is our banquet. What are our options?”

                             Banquet. Tuxedos. All those men. The most menacing three are talking about death and violence as if it’s a daily occurrence. Are they nobles or the mafia wrapped in refined aristocracy?

                             Aaron sits on a sofa, at the side of the camera, his expression blank. “There’s only one option. Since Tristan is the one who screwed this up, then he needs to take care of the mess on his own.” He points a finger at his brother. “Call your favours, judges, politicians, or whoever you deem worthy to cover this. I killed Hampton because I had to. He was in my quarters.”

                             So this Hampton man is dead. The horror film episode I witnessed wasn’t a play of my imagination. Aaron is a killer. And judging from the way he handled those knives, he’s a skilled killer.

                             Oh. God. I’ve really been kidnapped by a serial killer.

                             Assuming is entirely different from witnessing the act. It was too visceral. Too real. Too...twisted.

                             Aaron’s monstrous nature is undeniable. I don’t know why I had the foolish hope that my prejudices would be wrong.

                             I had to be punched in the face— literally— to see his raw ugly nature.

                             My attention turns back to Tristan as he releases a long breath. “Fine. I’ll take care of it in my own way.”

                             “And Celeste?” The polite man asks Aaron, his voice not so polite anymore. “Why didn’t you let Xan capture her when you had the chance? You were playing one of your sick games with her, weren’t you?”

                             Something ticks in Aaron’s jaw, but he ignores him, stands, and marches to the men lined by the door. Kane and the beaten up man stand in front of them all, as if he didn’t just serve as Aaron’s punching bag. All the other men line behind them.

                             Aaron’s voice is deep and commanding, leaving no place for negotiations. “Here’s how it goes, from now on, no one but Dylan is allowed inside the estate. Tristan and I will choose our security team and the rest is to stay within the perimeter of the estate until it’s decided otherwise. If you meet a strange woman and decide it’s a good idea to fuck her, that’s Celeste. If any of you actually fuck her, I will finish your lives with my own hands.” He pauses, his merciless gaze roam the little army. “Is that understood?”

                             I’m almost deafened by the thundering, “Yes, Sir!”

                             “Isn’t that too much?” Tristan asks from behind him.