His bloody mouth forms around the word fuck, and it doesn’t take a genius to know what word is going to come out next. I punch him in the nose before he can get the first syllable out.
The crunch of bone beneath my fist is nearly orgasmic. By the time I’m pulling my fist away, blood is squirting from his broken nose. He spits, and a tooth flies out of his mouth and onto my floor.
I’m going to shove my foot up his ass just for that.
I get out, round the car, and swing open the door.
He starts protesting, but the words become garbled when I grab him by the collar and drag his ass out. With his limbs tied up, he feels every drop and bump as I drag his body out of the car and haul him towards the table.
He squirms like a worm on a hook, and I can tell by the panicked look on his face that he has that feeling. The sinking feeling that his life is balancing on the edge, and I’m about to fucking Sparta kick him off.
Despite his struggles, I wrangle him on the surgical table, and systematically untie specific ropes so I can strap him to the table while simultaneously keeping him immobile.
He looks over and sees a dead Fernando lying on the other table.
After I saw Sicily off, Michael dropped Fernando off at my place while I went to Parsons Manor to snoop around. Addie and her friend were leaving, so I followed them to a club.
It took all my willpower not to put a bullet in every man’s head that grinded their dick against her ass. I decided to go home and take care of business before I did something stupid and actually kidnap her.
While I interrogated Fernando, I set up a monitor and kept an eye on Addie through the club’s cameras. I'll admit, my torture methods became a lot bloodier once I saw Archie lead her up the stairs.
I got the information I needed from Fernando. Their process for extracting girls, names of some of the mules, and the name of who Fernando reports to. Turns out the guy is in Ohio, so I’m letting one of the other mercenaries handle him. He'll get the information on his boss and work our way up the chain.
The mules have already been located and targeted, so after I’m done disposing of these two fucks, they’ll be getting a sniper shot to the head, then on to Archie’s family.
“The fuck, man?” Archie spits, both terror and disgust evident in his tone. Fernando’s face has started to bloat.
I shrug, unbothered. “I have a lot of bodies to dispose of tonight. It'll be easier to dispose of them all at the same time.”
“Look, whatever my family did, we can work out a deal,” Archie negotiates, his words a little garbled and misshapen from his broken teeth. His nose has already swollen and bruised, along with his split, puffy lips. He looks as if he went five rounds in a boxing match with his hands tied behind his back.
“I don’t have any connections with your family,” I say calmly. “At least not until now.”
He’s silent for a beat, staring at me incredulously as his brain processes that I’m not an enemy of the Talaverra’s.
“Then why the fuck are you doing this? Because of that fucking girl?” he asks, his voice hysteric.
I lean close, letting him get a good look at my scarred face. If it’s not the scars that warn people away, the deadly glint in my eyes usually does the trick.
“She fucking wanted me. Not my fault that your girl doesn’t want you.”
I sigh and straighten. I’m not going to bother explaining myself to this prick. He won’t understand my obsession, and I don’t give a shit enough to want him to.
What he doesn’t know is that the minute I properly introduce myself to Adeline Reilly, she won’t be able to think of anyone else.
I will devour her from the inside out, until every intake of breath will only stoke the inferno I've created inside her. Like oxygen feeding a fire, I will consume every inch of her sweet little body until she will think of nothing else but how to get me deeper inside of her.
She’ll fear me at first, but that fear will only ignite her. And I will be all too fucking happy to deliver the pain when she gets too close to the flame.
Next to me is a tray of utensils lined up neatly. Without looking away, I grab the first tool my hand lands on.
A serrated screwdriver. Specially made for torturing. The military uses shit like this, unbeknownst to the public. Not that the government would ever willingly tell the country that they torture war criminals often and use pretty fucked up methods to do so.
The public isn’t ignorant by any means, but they sure as fuck don’t know the extent of the depravity of our government either.
His eyes widen comically when he catches sight of the screwdriver.
I smile. “Haven’t gotten to use this one yet,” I observe, twisting the screwdriver and giving us both a good view of each sharp point. Once this sucker goes in, it’s going to hurt even worse taking it out.
I can’t fucking wait.
“Bro, let’s talk about this. That girl is not worth you killing me over. Do you realize what my family will do to you? To her?”
“Did you really think I was going to kill just you?” I volley back, quirking a brow to show how unimpressed I am with his warning.
His face turns beet red, like the apples my mother used to pluck for me from the orchard as a kid. Always loved those things.
Threats spill from his mouth, fueled by rage from his family’s untimely fate.
“You’re doing this because I almost fucked a girl?! I didn’t even fucking know she was yours,” he bellows, veins popping from his forehead.
Not a pretty sight.
In response, I stab the screwdriver straight into his stomach. He gapes at me, his mouth parted in shock. A moment passes, and then he’s coughing up blood. An array of emotions filter through his eyes. Pretty sure I see the five stages of grief in there, too.
I bend down and grit out through my teeth, “What you and every sad motherfucker that even looks in her direction will learn is no one is safe when it comes to her. I don’t care if you only breathed in her direction the wrong way, you will fucking die.”
“You’re fucking crazy,” he chokes out, looking down at the screwdriver sticking out of his abdomen in disbelief. Definitely hit vital organs this time.
Slowly, I pull the screwdriver out, the suctioning noise quiet against the backdrop of his scream.
The unbridled anger pulsating through me is relentless—unstoppable. And the image of his hand in her pants, kissing her, whispering shit into her ear, and making her come. It all fuels the violent storm in my head. I plunge the screwdriver back in when the image flickers of her face. Wanting him back. Climaxing for a shitstain like him. I’ll have to erase his touch from her.
And soon.
I rip out the screwdriver and take a deep breath. I have to remind myself she doesn’t know me yet. She doesn’t understand what true need is. Not yet, but she will. Because she’s going to hate the way she needs me. She’s going to fight it, rebel against the craving and attempt to search for something else that makes her feel even a fraction of what I will.
She’ll never find it.
And I won’t let her try.
Cracking my neck, I take another deep, calming breath. My temper got the best of me. I’m not usually a reactive person, but I’ve already accepted the fact that my little mouse brings out new feelings in me, too.
“How many women have you hurt, Archie?” I ask, licking my lips and circling his body until I disappear from view.
It’s an intimidation tactic for the weak-minded. Makes them nervous when I vanish behind them for that brief moment. Their minds get away from them as they anticipate what I’m going to do. And then they get a little relief when they see me again.
Just to repeat the process.
It’s torture in itself. Not knowing if I’m going to strike. Or when.
