CHAPTER- 103

                                    

                                          
Ace POV:
"I mean, really?" I muttered, driving the knife into the table with a heavy thud, the sound echoing through the dimly lit basement.
My chest heaved as I caught my breath, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away.
The man lying on the floor, once so full of defiance, now barely had the strength to whimper.
"That eyepop literally looked me in the eyes and then turned around, snuggled into her cheeks like it was nothing!" I exclaimed, the disbelief in my voice masking the seething anger that still simmered beneath the surface.
I turned to the lifeless form on the floor, eyes narrowing in frustration.
His screams had subsided into faint, muffled groans, his life slipping away with every shallow breath.
"Shh... Can you like keep your fucking voice down? I'm talking," I snapped, as if he could still hear or care.
His head lolled to the side, the last traces of life fading from his bloodshot eyes.
"Snacks knows he makes me jealous," I muttered to myself, pacing back and forth as I recounted the events of the night.
"That's why he acted like he couldn't sleep in his cage. Mewled every damn second until Mini woke up in the middle of the night. And what did she do? She picked him up and lured him to sleep— cuddled him, not me! While I was right there, watching the whole thing!" The frustration in my voice grew, the memory of her soft, warm body wrapped around that furball gnawing at me.
The man on the floor let out a weak, gurgling sound.
I barely paid him any attention, lost in my own thoughts, my mind still replaying that infuriating scene from the night before.
"Where did you find him?" Ivan's voice echoed from the far side of the basement, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts.
He sat in another cell, his once imposing figure reduced to a shadow of its former self.
His body was bruised, battered, one hand fractured, and one eye gone, but there was still a flicker of life in him.
"He was staring at my Mini when we were at the ice cream parlor," I replied, as if that alone justified the violence.
The irritation in my voice fading as I walked over to Ivan's cell.
I sat down beside him, leaning back against the cold, damp wall with a sigh.
As I glanced over at the lifeless figure on the floor.
It was done. Another problem eliminated, another loose end tied up.
"I mean, come on, Snacks was doing it on purpose," I continued, as if Ivan would understand my frustration. "He knows exactly how to get under my skin, and he does it every chance he gets."
I was in the basement with one of the punks who I found in an ice cream parlor.
Starting my day by venting to a man who was barely hanging on, but somehow, it felt like the perfect way to channel my frustrations.
It was past 5 in the morning, and the early hours of dawn did nothing to alleviate the tension that coiled within me.
In fact, the quietude of the hour only served to amplify my thoughts, making everything feel more intense, more real.
I needed this— this bizarre ritual of releasing pent-up emotions in the most twisted ways.
It kept me centered, calm even.