His Redemption

Chapter Fifteen

Killian’s pov

The underground cells smelled of blood and dampness. It was cold and cramped. The sound of water dripping steadily somewhere in the distance, the sound blending with the occasional clang of metal doors.

A single bulb swung overhead, casting fractured shadows across the room as the man chained to the metal chair struggled weakly against the restraints. His face was bruised beyond recognition, blood running from the corner of his mouth onto his torn shirt.

Killian stood in front of him in complete silence.

The sleeves of his black shirt were rolled to his forearms, exposing blood smeared across his knuckles. A scalpel rested loosely in his hand.

The man coughed painfully, spitting blood onto the floor.

"You're running out of time," Killian said, his voice low and calm.

“I already told you—” he wheezed.

Killian grabbed the man by the jaw suddenly the chair screeched violently against the floor.

"You're lying,"

The man trembled but tried to laugh through broken breaths.

"I'm not lying even if I knew I wouldn't betray Nicholas."

Killian stared at him for a long moment.

Then smiled faintly.

"Wrong answer," he chuckled darkly, plunging the scalpel into the man's thigh.

A strangled scream ripped through the room.

The man jerked violently against the chains, gasping in agony as blood soaked through his pants. Killian twisted the blade slowly before pulling it free.

The sound that followed was wet and ugly.

Killian crouched slightly until they were eye level.

"I'm going to give you one more chance and if you don't answer correctly then I will give you a torturous death, you wouldn't want that now would you?"

The man shook uncontrollably, sweat and tears mixing with blood. “I-I don’t know—”

Killian slammed his fist into the man’s face. A bone cracked.

The chair tipped sideways, crashing onto the concrete floor with the man still strapped to it. He groaned weakly, blood pouring from his nose now.

Killian stepped over him without hurry and grabbed the chair upright again with one brutal yank.

The man cried out and Killian leaned closer, his eyes were dark and merciless.

"You're still not going to talk?"

"I swear I don't-"

Killian punched him and blood splattered across the floor.

The man’s head lolled weakly.

Killian then reached for a pair of pliers resting on the nearby table and the cell door opened.

Tristan walked in.

Unlike Killian, Tristan looked untouched by the violence around him. Calm and Composed. Though his eyes flicked briefly toward the barely conscious man with mild annoyance.

"Don't waste your time on him."

Killian glanced at Tristan with raised brows. "Why?"

Tristan casually walked further into the room with his hands tucked in his pockets.

"Because I found Nicholas."

Killian’s brows knitted.

“Where?” he asked.

Tristan’s expression darkened slightly. “An abandoned warehouse near the docks. He’s got at least fifteen men with him.”

The man’s eyes widened in panic at the revelation.

Killian noticed and smiled, it wasn't pleasantly. It was the kind of smile that made grown men pray.

“Well,” Killian murmured, wiping blood from his knuckles with a cloth, “looks like your boss just signed his death warrant."

The man began shaking harder.

“Please—”

"Please what?" Killian asked.

"Are you pleading for your life or Nicholas’s?"

"Mine," he murmured.

Killian ignored him completely and picked up his jacket from the chair nearby, slipping it on with terrifying composure despite the blood staining his hands.

Tristan glanced at the prisoner. “What about him?”

Killian adjusted his cuffs slowly.

"Kill him, he's of no use to me."

The man whimpered, shaking.

Tristan nodded, peering at the man with a wicked grin.

Killian turned and walked toward the door with Tristan following.

Behind them, the man remained chained in the dim light, broken sobs echoing through the underground cell as the metal door slammed shut.

___________________________________________________

The rain had started by the time Killian emerged from the underground cells. The air smelled of smoke and wet asphalt as several black vehicles waited outside of Killian’s warehouse, engines already running.

Killian walked toward the car at the center of the convoy, his expression unreadable.

The minute the guards saw him approach they immediately straightened.

One of the guards quickly rushed to open the door for him. Killian slid into the backseat of the car, adjusting the cuffs of his dark coat while the driver waited silently for instructions.

Tristan approached from behind, lighting a cigarette.

Just as the driver placed the car into gear, Killian spoke.

“Wait.”

The driver stopped instantly.

Killian rolled down the rain-streak window and spoke, his tone calm.

"I need you to do something for me."

Tristan nodded.

“Send Evangeline flowers.”

Tristan raised an eyebrow slightly.

“Flowers?” he repeated, faint amusement touching his voice.

Killian’s jaw clenched but he ignored his tone.

“White roses,” he said. “And include a note.”

Tristan leaned against the car door. “What should it say?”

“I apologize for yesterday,” Killian said finally. “Tell her I’d like to see her again.”

Tristan studied him carefully before giving a small nod.

“Done.”

Killian leaned back into the seat and peered at the driver.

“Now drive.”

The convoy pulled away immediately, tires hissing against the wet streets.

_________________________________________________

The drive to the warehouse was silent except for the storm.

Rain hammered against the windows while the city lights blurred into streaks of gold and white. Behind Killian’s vehicle, several black SUVs followed closely, filled with armed men waiting for orders.

Killian sat motionless in the seat, his mind was on Nicholas.

Nicholas was becoming a pest, he

He was like a stain that refused to wash out of his life.

He had crossed a line this time and Killian wasn't going to leave him. He was planning on getting rid of him.

The warehouse stood near the abandoned docks at the edge of the city, it was massive and abandoned.

Half the windows were broken, and rust stained the metal walls. The storm made the place look even darker, lightning occasionally illuminating the structure in sharp flashes.

The convoy came to a stop.

Doors opened almost simultaneously. The armed men stepped out first, spreading around the perimeter with practiced precision.

Killian emerged last. Rain soaking through his dark clothes almost instantly, but he didn’t seem to care.

One of his men approached him. “We’ve got movement inside."

"Cover the north and east exists, I don't want anyone leaving this building alive," killian said, pulling out his gun from the holster.

The guard nodded once.

Killian started walking toward the warehouse entrance and his men followed behind him like shadows.

The large metal doors creaked as Killian shoved it open. It was dark inside, the air smelled of oil, smoke and dark wood.

Killian stepped inside, his steps were slow and careful. His men were right behind him, their guns raised in the air and eyes darting around the darkness.

Killian and his men suddenly stilled when they heard footsteps echoe across the concrete floor.

The lights turned on and Nicholas stepped out of the shadows above on the second-level platform overlooking the warehouse floor. There were several of his men surrounding him with their rifles aimed downward.

This was a trap, Killian thought. Nicholas knew Killian would come for him so he planned this out. Tristan had informed him there were only fifteen men but there were more than fifteen.

Nicholas grinned. “I was starting to get bored. I almost thought you wouldn't come.”

Killian’s jaw clenched so tightly that it seemed the bones would splinter. A vein pulsed at his temple.

"You're a dead man Nicholas," Killian said, his voice cracked like thunder through the room.

A smug smirk plastered Nicholas’s face.

"No, Killian I'm not but you are."