Eight years. I’d been waiting for this moment for eight fucking years. Since the night that Desmond had taken everything from me, all I could focus on was getting revenge. Capturing Desmond hadn’t been easy, but as soon as he’d been brought to me, I’d ordered for him to be taken to a room with a single chair—to which he was now tied—and I’d given my men cameras that they could attach to their jackets as they stormed one of Desmond’s houses, where his sons were holed up.

Desmond’s eldest had fallen first, and now we had only two more to go. Well, at least in this house. I knew where the rest of Desmond’s family was too, but I hadn’t revealed that piece of info to him yet. No. I wanted to see his reaction. I wanted to see him suffer the way I’d suffered. The only problem was, Desmond was smiling at me.

“You may think you’ve won,” he said slowly, “but nothing you do will get you your family back.”

I gritted my teeth and backhanded him so hard across the face that he almost fell off the chair. Was he playing tough, since he knew I was going to kill every single member of his family anyway? Maybe he just didn’t want to give me the satisfaction, or maybe he truly didn’t care at all. As I stared into his cold eyes, I realized this man didn’t feel anything for anyone—other than himself. He was proud of his sons, but their loss didn’t seem to affect him much.

Desmond was looking at the screen, and we watched another one of his sons try to fight off my men, but he was alone, and there were five of mine, so they easily subdued him and sliced his throat.

“I’m so proud of my boys. Strong to the end,” he said, a smile still lingering on his lips. I ran my hand over my face. Was there even a way to unnerve this psychopath? He intended to die with a smile on his face, and I couldn’t let that happen.

“Proud? Why would you be proud that you failed to protect yourself and that your men weren’t enough to stop me?” I started pacing up and down the room.

“Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. You bested me and mine, and I congratulate you on that. But my family will die fighting. That’s an honorable death, if you ask me. Not like your father, who begged and cried on his knees.”

It took all of my willpower to stay calm as I clenched my fists. He was saying exactly what he knew would piss me off. Unbelievable. I was letting him get to me, and I had no idea what to do about it.

Eight fucking years.