His hand was holding the knife by the blade, fingers wrapped tightly around silver even as it cut into him. Using the hold on it, he wrenched the weapon from Mason’s hand and flung it across the room. It clattered against a wall, leaving a bloody splatter on impact.
“What the fuck are you?” Mason asked through gritted teeth.
Henrik replied, but his words weren’t in English, just a simple short phrase, then he was punching, blow after blow to Mason’s stomach, his face, until the man was stumbling backward, losingground rapidly. He fell into the desk behind him and Henrik kept hitting. Fists a mix of both their blood. Wet smacks echoed through the cold, dilapidated room until Mason stopped moving.
Henrik wasn’t even sweating, not even an increase in his breathing. With the same amused smile on his lips, he stepped back from Mason’s bloodied form on the desk. I watched him until I saw the slight rise and fall of his chest. He was still breathing. Still alive. I was… disappointed by that.
“Knife.” Henrik spoke to me, and after a dazed moment, I handed it to him. He went back over to Mason and gestured for me to follow. I did. I didn’t know if my heart was beating too rapidly for me to feel it or if it had stopped entirely.
“There’s a tradition in my family,” he said, and I wasn’t sure if he was speaking to me or the barely conscious man on the desk. “When someone is a thief, they take something that doesn’t belong to them, so in return, we take something that does.”
Henrik reached for Mason’s bloody hand, laying it flat on the desk surface, and with no hesitation he ran the blade over Mason’s pinky finger. A wet crunch and then Mason was conscious again, conscious and screaming, clutching his hand to his chest as his blood wept over his shirt. His finger was still on the desk next to the knife until Henrik flicked it to the ground and kicked it away.
“Now I think maybe you will answer the question.” Henrik looked at me expectantly, but my mouth was dry, my words evaporated as I watched red continue to seep into Mason’s clothing. “Remember what you came here for, Rabbit.” My eyes broke away from all the red and found Henrik. He smiled and nodded toward Mason. “Why are we here?”
For Dex. This was all for Dex.
“Where’s the lighter?” I asked, my voice sounding far calmer than I expected it to be.
Mason only screamed.
“Where is the lighter?” Henrik repeated, speaking loudly into Mason’s ear as he gripped him by the hair. “Or I’ll take another finger.”
“Bag!” Mason sobbed. “In my bag!”
I looked around, spotting three bags against the wall. I walked over to them, unzipping the closest one and spilling its contents over the ground. There were a shocking number of weapons, but no lighter. I emptied the second one, and among all the other things that scattered over the floor, silver glinted like a beacon. The lighter. I looked through the other things, finding Dex’s phone, his keys, his wallet, quickly stashing them all into the safety of my pocket.
I’d done it. I got them back.
I couldn’t fight the smile as I looked at Henrik, who smiled back at me. “That’s it, smile. Show them your bloodied teeth. Maybe you aren’t a rabbit after all, hmm?”
There was a man holding his mutilated hand as he sobbed, and I was smiling. The realization sobered me, and the smile fell away as I walked back over to Henrik, to Mason. “What do we do now?”
Henrik held the knife out to me. “That’s up to you.”
I took it, staring down at the now bloodied blade.What do I do now?
I’d gotten what I came here for. It was done. Over. Except it wasn’t. Because Mason knew who I was, and I knew he’d want revenge on me after this… on Dex.
He glared at us, still clutching his hand to his chest protectively. “You’ll fucking pay for this,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. “You and your piece of shit fucking boyfriend. I’ll fucking make you pay. I’ll slit his fucking throat while you watch, you piece of shit fucking fa—”
I didn’t plan to do it, but he was threatening Dex, and I was holding the knife, and without conscious thought I moved, and itwas so easy. The blade sank into flesh, a bit of resistance at first but then it just plunged in with barely any effort at all.
Mason stared down at the knife in his stomach, his uninjured hand slowly reaching for it. I let it go, taking a step backward.
Henrik rolled his eyes, slapping Mason’s hand away as he gripped the knife and yanked it free, plunged it in again, over and over until Mason slumped forward, his body falling gracelessly to the floor.
Then he walked over to the body of the man on the floor closest to him, repeating the action. More red. Red. Red. Red.
Then to the next.
“Y-you promised me vengeance,” the final man said, glaring up at Henrik through an eye almost swollen shut. “For my brother. You promised me Reaper.”
Henrik gave his face an affectionate pat. “Don’t worry, Mikhail, I’ll send him to you in hell, hmm? You get your vengeance there.” He plunged the knife into Mikhail’s gut, watching with what could only be described as fascination as the light left the man’s eyes and he slumped to the ground.
Bile rose in my throat. I hunched over, heaving, but before I could get out the acid that burned up my throat, a bloodied hand was clamped over my mouth. I struggled against Henrik’s hold but he wouldn’t budge, the vomit trapped in my mouth until I swallowed it back down.
“Can’t leave any traces of you at a crime scene, Bunny.”
