Chapter 12

"TRISTAN ESTEFAN."

Beckett's mention of that name sent a cold and chilling feeling. The man, who was already in front of him, felt the same way too.

"W-Why do you know my name?" the man stuttered. "Who are you? Are you the one who kidnapped me—"

"Place that fucking towel inside his mouth again," Beckett said, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "So fucking noisy."

Nathan and his men were right. The man was even more talkative than a woman. Beckett didn't want to hear his blabberings or complaints. He only wanted to hear Tristan groaning in pain and begging for his life.

For now, Beckett was getting what he wanted. Tristan now looked at him as if he saw death itself.

"What I hate the most is being fooled by someone," Beckett said in a cold tone before tightening his grip on the baseball bat. "What's the use of a contract if you don't follow it?"

And that was what Tristan, Nathan, and the rest of the gang felt. Everyone became more alert, especially Tristan, because there was only one meaning when Beckett spoke that way.

His heart and soul were burning with rage, and his patience was nearly at its limit.

Beckett slowly walked towards Tristan's location. The sound created by the intentionally dragging baseball bat echoed as he walked. Tristan wanted to cover his ears, but he couldn't. He was too helpless to even breathe.

"What I hate the most is being betrayed and reported to the police..." Beckett removed the gag from Tristan's mouth to let him speak. He also held Tristan's face, digging his nails into his skin.

"Don't you have balls? Or do you simply not have the money to pay for what you bought?"

"F-Forgive me! I didn't mean—"

"You didn't mean to report me to the police?" Beckett's lip curled up. "Fuck. Besides being stupid, I also hate being made a fool."

Without warning, Beckett stood up before firmly grabbing the baseball bat. In one swift motion, Beckett hit Tristan's arm with such force that everyone heard the bones crack.

Tristan screamed in pain before falling sideways. Nathan quickly helped him up as signaled by his boss. Then Beckett struck Tristan again, this time on the other arm.

Beckett repeatedly hit Tristan until his dreams came true. Tristan's pleas for mercy were like angels singing hallelujah in Beckett's ears. Nathan winced slightly due to Beckett's sudden change in reaction.

Sometimes, Nathan couldn't believe that Beckett Clainfer, the model, and Mob, their boss, were the same person. It was just more terrifying when he was angry.

And now, it seemed that Beckett's anger had reached its peak. No one could see Beckett's face because of the mask, but his skin turned red as he gave Tristan a deadly stare.

"S-Stop... I'll pay!" Tristan shouted, fighting dizziness and weakness. He had numerous wounds all over his body. His lips and the corners of his eyes were bleeding.

"If you're really going to pay, you should have done it earlier. But instead, you reported us to the police, thinking you would succeed," Beckett replied before hitting Tristan's knee. He really captured his anger. "It's not just you. Many people tried to take us down, but no one succeeded... Because they're dead afterward."

Beckett took out a white handkerchief and wiped his blood-soaked baseball bat. He handed it to Nathan before taking the alcohol Gerald, one of his men, gave him.

Beckett had let out his anger, so he could stop now. He didn't feel well either because of the sight of blood from the man in front of him.

"Tristan Estefan," Beckett called out again, causing Tristan to look up. He was bruised and barely conscious. "I didn't beat you to death just because of that fucking drugs."

Beckett leaned forward just enough to see fear registering in Tristan's eyes. The arrogant expression from earlier was gone. Beckett also remembered how Tristan used to boast about buying drugs from him—only to find out that his business was bankrupt and he couldn't afford to pay anymore.

"I despise your kind..." Beckett muttered, sending chills down Tristan's spine. "If you have a girlfriend, shouldn't you be loyal to her?"

"W-What are you talking about—"

"Vivianne Allamino," Beckett interrupted, and Tristan's eyes widened in shock. "Does that ring a bell?"

Beckett's voice lowered to a dangerous level, and his patience was wearing thin. Tristan furrowed his brows, and after a few seconds, burst into laughter.

"Ah, Vivianne? That useless ex-girlfriend who couldn't even kiss properly and was terrible in bed?" Tristan said with a mischievous grin on his lips. "Is that who you want? I could have given her to you if you had just told me. She only has her looks going for her."

'One...' Beckett started counting in his mind.

"Ah, fuck. Did I get beaten up just because of a girl?" Tristan spat to the side. "Can we fix this if I bring that girl to you? She's not good, I'm telling you. But she has a nice ass, and she's sexy. That should be enough."

'Two...' Beckett was almost losing it, but it seemed that his conversation partner was oblivious to it.

He only needed to count up to three, and Beckett would not be responsible for what he would do.

"Oh, one more thing. She's quite picky. That fucking bitch doesn't want to have sex, as if she's so good. I even offered to give her a blowjob—"

'Three.'

Beckett pulled out the gun from one of his men's waists. Without a second thought, he pulled the trigger. The bullet hit Tristan's heart, instantly taking his life.

"B-Boss..." Nathan called out in a trembling voice.

Everyone was shocked. This was the first time Beckett had killed someone himself. Usually, he would beat up those who annoyed him, and it was Nathan's job to finish them off and clean up.

All of them wondered what was different in Tristan's case.

"Kill them, and take all their assets. If they have none, find their relatives and seize all their properties," Beckett ordered before glancing at the others tied up in the room. "Make sure this rumor circulates underground as well."

"Copy, boss."

Some of their clients were female, but gender was not a barrier for Beckett. Whoever wronged him would be killed.

Beckett left the room, followed by the sound of gunshots and the screams of the traitors. They all deserved death for interfering with his business.

He was kind and polite during transactions, but he was also like a demon to those who didn't follow the agreements.

Beckett quickly returned to his car. He sat in the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel tightly. It was the same position he was in earlier when Nathan called him, and he couldn't help but sarcastically laugh because of the déjà vu.

"Shit," Beckett muttered as he felt his breathing. Each breath he released felt heavy, and his heart was beating rapidly, especially when he saw the splatters of blood on his hands.

His greatest desire is his greatest weakness at the same time—killing people. He can beat people up, even to the point of breaking their bones and skulls. But killing them is a different case.

He felt like he was running out of breath earlier, so he hurriedly went outside. No one knows about his fear of blood and killing—no one should know. If his enemies find out, they will surely use it against him.

To be honest, he didn't have plans to kill Tristan himself. Beating up the man who hurt Vivianne was enough reason for him to get drunk in a bar.

But the guy turned out to be more of a fucker than he expected. His hands suddenly itched. Fuckers, except him, should be rotten in hell.

After that, Beckett went home—to his penthouse in Syneverse—and cleaned himself up. While in the shower, Beckett didn't realize how his fists went onto his cock, stroking it, and he fantasized as if he was inside Vivianne's hole.

And he exploded before realizing what he was doing.

THAT NIGHT, Beckett didn't have enough sleep as usual. He didn't feel well either, but he was able to conceal it.

Even though he just finished shooting and had a few meetings, no one noticed that he wasn't feeling well. The feeling he had right now was the same as when he remembered his parents' corpses.

And he didn't like it.

"That's a wrap!" the director shouted before clapping. "You didn't disappoint as always, Beckett!"

"Thank you," Beckett replied before smiling.

It was lunchtime, and his schedule for the day wasn't too heavy, so he could eat. Fiona took care of his needs and talked to him about a few more photoshoots and appointments that he needed to attend.

But his gaze was fixed on one person—Vivianne. Beckett noticed her avoidance, just like now. Instead of eating next to him, she went outside.

"Stay here, Fiona," Beckett said before standing up and following Vivianne outside the studio.

But to his surprise, when he stepped outside, Vivianne was already in front of him, as if she expected him to follow. Her hands were crossed, and she looked at Beckett with a stern expression.

"Is this about the kiss, huh?" Beckett asked, raising an eyebrow. "I won't apologize. You liked it, too."

"It's not about that kiss, and I don't care about it."

It was a lie. Vivianne didn't sleep well because of it, but that wasn't the reason she spoke to Beckett now.

"Admit it... Who are you really?" Vivianne took a step closer until they were within proximity of each other. "And what's your connection to Tristan?"