TW: Torture and blood.

See, this is exactly why my husbands are reckless.

They go out for an ice cream with their kids, get interrupted by their employee and are now on their way to kill their father.

And my babies? They're in the hands of mister Loses Everything He Touches. Also known as Val.

"Listen, Daisy, it's not smart to go," Michael tells me over the phone. He's calling me in secret; Dominic, Easton and Asher are currently getting their weapons at home. Michael is in the car, waiting for them to return.

"Too bad, you shouldn't have called me then." I finish dressing with a black leather jacket and grab my phone again, leaving the hospital room. My car is outside, waiting for me to get in and drive to the office.

"You would have killed me if I didn't!" Michael complains. Always something to complain about, that man.

"Exactly, which is why you called. Now tell me what cell he is in," I demand. Michael chuckles. "As if. Hell no."

"Michael," I threaten. He better tell me where the fuck that asshole is in that damn office, because there's no way I'm letting my husbands confront the man who ruined their childhoods again. "Tell me."

"But then they'll kill me!"

"You'll get killed either way, just tell me!"

"Okay, fine! Cell 2, but you'll probably see it anyway. It's the only one occupied and with guards."

"See, was it that hard?" Shaking my head, I don't wait for his response and hang up the call. My phone finds its new spot in the passenger seat while I hit the gas even harder, making sure I'll be there sooner than them. 

I'm aware this isn't one of my better plans. It's impulsive and dangerous. Then again, maybe it's better that it's my emotional decision. I know for a fact that Dominic, Asher and Easton are on the brink of collapsing with this pressure. They've doen this once before, when they were ready and prepared, but now? It came out of nothing. 

Sure, their Father was in the cell before. I knew that much. But we thought we had time before they had to go and deal with this shit. Dominic can barely walk, for fuck's sake. 

My phone vibrates with a text message, followed by a few calls and more messages. It's either Michael regretting ever telling me the location of this evil man, or my husbands who've read their best friend's guilty face and are trying to stop me. 

Too bad for them. The office building is already in view, and it should only take approximately a minute for me to reach it. Michael is far behind and won't arrive for another ten minutes, which gives me some play time. 

The long coat I wore when we stormed the house Dominic was captured in hides the sharp knife I carry around everywhere. Ever since the discovery every man can be evil, I don't dare to go out alone or with eh kids. Even if it's only for groceries or going to a playground. If my husbands aren't there, I'm not safe. 

"Mrs. Whitlock, you can't—" The assistant behind the counter tries to stop me, but I ignore him and walk to the elevator. Immediately, two of the guards follow me. I bet Dominic called in and decided that if I cannot be stopped, he'll have me protected in the least. 

This, I don't mind. I'm not stupid or careless enough to think I can handle this man alone. I just want to have him sweating, begging and apologizing for everything he's brought with him. Ruined childhoods, both of my husbands and of my daughter. He'll pay for their pain, physically and emotionally. 

"Open," I snap the one of the three men in front of the steel door. It's secured with three locks and an extra layer of titanium, just because this is such an infuriating client. 

The man hesitates as he looks at me, but something in my expression tells him it's best not to argue. If it's fear for me or for my husbands, I don't know. I don't care, either. He opens the door, like I asked him to, and I don't need more of him. 

Benjamin Whitlock is sitting on the floor, with his back against the grey wall, and looks up with eyes filled with hatred. He doesn't say anything until I've fully walked in, my guards a step behind me. "You bitch."

Oh, what an original insult. "It is time you apologize for what you've done, Benjamin. You two, tie him to a chair."

A little reluctant, the two guards follow my order. The man struggles against them, but Dominic clearly chose his strongest men for this job. "Do not call me Benjamin, you slut. You're really taking all of them at once just for their money, huh? I can't believe my sons are falling for this trick!"

"They are not your sons anymore, Benjamin," I tell him calmly, not at all affected by his wrath. People like him will throw insults around and give the blame to anyone but themselves. His eyes narrow at his name. "I told you to not—"

Ignoring his rant full of curse words, I grab my knife. I examine it, quietly, until he is silent, too. We're looking at the knife together, yet with difference emotions coursing through us. I am ready for sweet revenge, yet he is starting to panic. 

Not to be killed, no. To be killed by a woman, a slut, a slave, is what he's fearing. 

"Tell me, Benjamin, why did you force Dominic to kill a man at the age of nine? Why do it again two years later? Why use his brothers as blackmail? And finally, why try to kill them? After all, Dominic doesn't obey you unless his brothers are in danger. It's quite the cause of everything he's done against his will throughout his life."

He tugs at the ropes around him, but we both know it's useless. "Dominic is weak. His brothers pathetic. I didn't raise them like this. You made it even worse. I drove Dominic crazy the second I carried his daughter away. He isn't supposed to show his vulnerable spots like this."

"Enough," I tell him, not allowing him to insult Dominic nor his brothers. I can cope with insults about me and the fact I have three men smitten with me, but these harsh words about them are worse. They are not weak or pathetic. It's taken them very long to see that, and there's no way I'll let this man fuck up their minds again.

My knife finds its way to the spot just below his chin by itself. Brief disbelief flashes in his eyes before he gathers himself again. He puts on that façade again and chuckles at me, no doubt to rage me. 

I don't let him trick me. He is trying to drive me crazy, to see my weaknesses. I draw in closer, our eyes not too far away, as my knife digs a little deeper in his skin. Dark red blood starts to drip over it, not enough to kill yet but it surely is painful. He grits his teeth. 

I am just about to force an apology out of him when chaos erupts at the entrance of the cell. 

My husbands have arrived. 

"You are lucky for this mercy," I tell him. His eyes glance at the noise quickly and widen at the sight of them. They're no doubt glaring at the both of us. At me, for handling this on my own, and at him, for everything else. 

"Butterfly, it's okay, you can step back now," Asher pleads. I can see him in the corner of my eye. He's the closest to the door. His hands are trembling. Easton is next to him, his hair a mess and his eye twitching nervously. Then there's Dominic, staggering on unsure legs. He's left his fucking crutches behind. Seriously, this man is ridiculous. 

I focus back on the man in front of me, deciding to finish this business myself. They are in no state of mind to do this, even though they want to make it seem like that. "Apologize, and maybe I'll let them kill you."

The choice is easily made. Killed by a weak woman, or the three leaders of the most powerful mafia in this country?

"I. . . am sorry about your childhood," he says, the beginning of a smirk playing around the corner of his mouth. Instead of digging my knife deeper in his flesh, I retreat it and stab his hand so hard, the point goes through it fully. 

The man screams in pain, eyes wide with shock and chest rising rapidly. I take my knife back, causing him to let out another moan, and put it back against his throat. "Like you mean it, asshole."

"Okay, okay!" he gasps. "Asher, Dominic, Easton, I apologize. For-for almost killing you. And the daughter-thing. For the violent childhood."

Not completely what I wanted, but the best we will get. Easton takes one step closer to me. "It's alright now, little love, we can handl—"

A choked mumble and blood. So much blood. It's all I notice before realizing what I've done. I've cut over Benjamin Whitlock's throat. 

Opening my trembling hands, I watch the blood spread over them. Oh God. I was planning on killing him anyway, but I got panicked because Easton was coming closer. I wanted to protect him from his father. He didn't need to finish it. 

With wide eyes, I look up at Easton's face. It's void of any emotion as he looks from me to the dead body in the chair. Behind him, Asher and Dominic are looking at me with shock plastered all over his face. 

"I-I don't—I didn't want you—" 

Dominic stumbles forward to me and cups my face. "It's alright. Everything is okay. We are not appalled by you, Daisy. Surprised, yes, to say the least, but also fucking impressed."

Asher presses a kiss to my temple. "I think it's better if you go upstairs now, butterfly. You seem a little shaken up."

Desperately, I try to get Easton to look at me. "Are you angry with me? Please, Easton, I didn't want you going through all of this misery again."

His eyes are still cold, but they warmed just a little. "I'm not angry, little love. I am frightened by what just happens, but not angry. Anything but angry. We'll talk about the rest later, yes?"

I was in a violent mood. A long awaited update, my apologies, loves