"Can daddy talk to you for a minute?"

He asked you lowly,

intense blue eyes on you as he took a seat on the couch in the living him,

elbows resting on his thighs

and his hands clasped together.

"Uh huh"

You nodded softly,

playing with your toys on the fluffy

rug in the living room,

putting your lego pieces together

and not paying him much attention.

"Look..."

He trailed off into a short silence,

an irritated sigh leaving his mouth.

"I uh...

one of my men told me last night that there was some kind of strange mark on your arm.

You wanna tell me how that got there?"

"Mark?"

You looked up at him with cute little eyes,

not understanding.

"A cut or something"

He scoffed impatiently.

"I don't know what the fuck it was

cos I haven't seen it yet.

Where did ya get it from?

Has somebody been touching you,

huh?"

"Touching me?"

You furrowed your little eyebrows in confusion.

"Nobody touches me,

daddy"

"Not like that..."

He sucked his teeth in annoyance,

starting to lose his patience with you.

"Has someone been fucking hurting you?

Tell me who it is so that

I can handle it accordingly"

Your innocent mind had no idea

what he mean by accordingly,

but anyone who knew or had spent any amount

of relevant time with Jack Napier could

guess that it had something to do with murder.

"I slipped"

You answered him quietly,

avoiding his eyes and you played

with your little toy car,

pushing it around on the fluffy rug.

"Slipped on what?"

He pressed you,

not letting it go and jumping to conclusions.

"What the fuck could you slip on that would fucking bruise you that badly?

And where did that fucking cut come from?

Have you been hurting yourself?"

"What is that?"

You asked him curiously,

confirming that you hadn't been self harming,

at least.

"Then if you're not doing it to yourself,

who fucking is?"

He asked you firmly,

making you uncomfortable.

Falling silent,

you didn't want to look at him,

tears blurring your eyes as you stared down

at your toys.

"Sweetheart..."

He cooed at you softly,

smoothing a hand across your forehead

to coax you.

"I'm just trying to keep ya safe,

alright?

that's all daddy wants.

If somebody I am dealing with is hurting you,

it's my fucking initiative to end it.

You're not in any trouble"

"But I didn't want to say anything"

You cried softly,

letting it all out.

"I told him he was hurting me and he wouldn't stop and when I said that I would tell my daddy,

he said you wouldn't believe me

because I'm just a little girl.

He kept pushing me around and grabbing

my arm and he wouldn't let me go.

And he pushed me into the countertop

and it cut me.

I didn't want to say anything,

daddy-"

"Hey"

He got up from the couch,

leaning down beside you,

placing his cold hand on the side of your little face,

forcing you to look at him.

"Don't.

Don't fucking do that.

It's not your problem.

If somebody hurts you,

they're asking for it.

Let me promise you,

little girl,

he will never be able to fucking touch you

again because where he's going,

he won't be able to do shit"

Warm tears running down your cheeks,

he kissed your forehead roughly,

pulling you into his chest as you cried,

his breathing unsteady as he reached into the lining of his suit jacket for his phone,

dialling a number and pressing it against his ear,

intense blue eyes staring off into the distance as someone picked up.

"It's him.

Get the others from the club.

I want him in my fucking basement within the hour.

Don't hurt him,

don't touch him,

don't do anything with him...

I want the first fucking hit.

Somebody's getting buried tonight"