Lexington
"Calm down, Mr. Wells, or we'll be forced to calm you down," an older asshole with a giant dragon tattoo trailing up his neck said in a thick Russian accent as I struggled against the two men holding my arms behind my back.
I already took a few hits to the face, and I have blood pouring down my face and across my lips, which are held in a firm line as I throw a glare that promises death and destruction to the smug fuck smiling in my face right now.
I can feel the space just below my right eye beginning to swell and throb, but I honestly couldn't care less. They took my wife.
"You took my fucking wife!" I yell at them, appealing to some sense of humanity I know they're lacking.
"Oh? You got married?" the man in charge questions with a teasing glint in his eyes. "Mazel Tov."
