Sinful Empire (Mount Trilogy #3)

I was sent on run after run, making it impossible to keep an eye on her the way I used to sleep outside Destiny’s door, and then kept watch over Hope.

I wanted the old man to be wrong, but my gut said he was right.

By design, I returned early from an errand, using the secret network of internal hallways to reach Morello’s office. It was the one room with no peepholes, and I entered without permission—a move that could cost me my life.

But my gut told me I had to.

I didn’t want to believe what I was seeing. Morello’s big hand was buried in Greta’s hair as he bent her over his desk. His dick was out, and her shirt was torn. Her cries and his taunts filled my ears before the rush of blood took over.

I saw Hope and Jerry. Not Greta and Morello. The killing calm slipped over me, and I didn’t stop to consider the consequences of my actions.

I pulled the gun from the holster that never left my side and silently crossed the room. With ice water running through my veins, I pressed the barrel against the back of his balding head before he could make another move.

“Take your f*cking hands off her.” My tone was low with harnessed rage.

“What the f*ck are you doing, kid?” Morello demanded, his voice harsh. “Get the hell out of here, or I’ll f*cking kill you myself.”

“Take. Your. Hands. Off. Her.” I spoke each word deliberately.

“You’re gonna die, kid. And I had such high hopes for you.” Morello shoved Hope—I mean, Greta—away. From the corner of my eye, I saw her tearstained face frozen in fear.

“Tell me this is the first time you’ve ever touched her, and all I’ll do is put a bullet in your head.”

“f*ck you, kid. Don’t you dare f*cking question me. I’m gonna have your head on my desk as a paperweight.”

“Greta?” I asked, not looking at her, but keeping my attention and gun on Morello.

She sobbed, not answering.

“Tell me now, Morello. Make me believe you’ve never f*cking touched her before, or your head is going to be the paperweight.”

My boss finally stilled, realizing exactly how serious I was. “I barely touched the girl. She asked for it. Came in here begging for it. She wanted a taste of a real man.”

“He’s lying,” Greta said, her voice breaking. “He told me he’d kill me if I ever told anyone.”

“How many times?” I asked, my tone low and deadly.

“Every time Dad leaves.”

“Don’t listen to that stupid cunt. She just wants attention like—”

I cocked the hammer on the revolver, and Morello went silent.

“You’re going to wish I pulled this trigger by the time I’m done with you. Greta, get the hell out of here. Go to your room and lock yourself inside. Don’t let anyone in.”

She scrambled to her feet and dashed for the door, fumbling at the handle, which I now realized was locked.

The old Mexican was right. I didn’t care why he wanted me to kill Morello, but he knew I would. I was being played, but that was the least of my worries.

Keeping the gun to the back of Morello’s head, I palmed the wicked-sharp six-inch switchblade in my pocket. It had spilled plenty of blood for him, and now it was going to spill his.

“You’re going to die slowly, you f*cking piece of shit.”

“You’ll be next, Mount.”

I pressed the button and the blade slid out. When I jammed it into one of his kidneys, Morello squealed in pain.

“No. That’s where you’re wrong, Morello. Because I’m taking over. As of today, this organization is mine. Anyone who disagrees will die just like you.” I yanked out the blade and shoved it into his other kidney, blood already darkening his otherwise pristine suit.

This wouldn’t be quick or pretty.

When I finished with Morello, his severed head sat on the corner of his desk, on top of a stack of papers. The rest of him sat in a chair across the desk from me. The visitor’s chair, not the boss’s. Then I called in each of the top members of the organization to tell them about the changing of the guard.

Revolution is not without bloodshed, and neither is vengeance.





Keira





Present day

I see it in his face—he’s expecting me to reject him and everything he is. But Lachlan Mount doesn’t know me as well as he thinks, and apparently, I didn’t know myself as well as I thought either.

The story Magnolia told me made me sick to my stomach. The story Lachlan recounted made me want to vomit even more, but for a completely different reason.

I don’t fear him at all. Not a single bit.

Finally, I’m starting to understand who he is at the most basic level. Lachlan Mount will never be a storybook hero, but I guarantee Rubio would call him a savior. I’m sure there are plenty of others who would as well.

Lachlan Mount lives by his own code, completely unapologetic about his actions, but that doesn’t mean he lacks honorable motives.

“You deal out justice as you see fit, but I don’t think you ever hurt an innocent intentionally.”

“Don’t lie to yourself and pretend that me saving a couple of kids offsets everything else I’ve done. You couldn’t find a soul blacker than mine if you dug into the depths of hell.”

He truly believes his own words. I see it on his face, but I think he’s wrong.

“You want me to say I’m repulsed by you? Then look me in the eye and tell me that you would sacrifice me to save yourself.”

Lachlan’s dark gaze goes wide before he reins in his shock. “What the f*ck are you trying to prove?”

“Tell me.” My demand is as rigid as the man beside me. “Make me believe it.”

His face twists into a mask of disgust. “No f*cking way.”

The triumphant smile that tugs at my lips is probably as twisted as the feelings coiling through me, but I don’t care.

“You’d die for me. You’ve already shown me that. You’d walk into a hail of bullets to save me from one. You wouldn’t let the doctors touch you until they finished with me, even though you needed them far more than I did. If you want me to believe that you’re a monster, then you’re going to have to do a hell of a lot better, because all I see is a man worthy to stand at my side.”

Shock flashes across his face. “I f*cking terrorized you. Don’t make this out to be a goddamned fairy tale, Keira. That’s sure as hell not what it is.”

He looks away, and this time, I reach out and mimic one of his favorite moves. I cup his stubble-roughened cheek in my palm and turn his head back to face me.

“I don’t want a fairy tale. I thought I had that once before, and look how it ended. I want real, and you’re the most real person I’ve ever met in my life. You don’t hold back a single one of your sins. What you do hold back is the motivations behind them, and those motivations make all the difference in the world.” I pause, watching as a flicker of disbelief creases his brow, and then . . . hope, maybe?