Gift had expected the six psychopaths of Peregrine pod to jump at the chance, maybe even Morgan, but his eyes went wide as they all crawled toward the pile, sorting through it like kids on Christmas morning.
“Thumbscrews,” Drake said. “Holy shit.” He looked to Aiden. “These look…homemade.”
Aiden shrugged. “Everyone’s gotta have a hobby.”
“That’s so fucking cool,” Diego whispered. “I wanna be a Mulvaney when I grow up.”
“Pretty sure they’re all taken,” Morgan said. “Maybe he’ll adopt you. Or, hey, there’s always the next gen.”
“What is this?” Lennon asked, holding up a metal object that looked like a complicated Christmas ornament.
“The pear of anguish,” Payton said, nostrils flaring and eyes glittering. “You insert it into the anus, vagina, or mouth of your victim and then you just crank it until it”—he made a gesture that looked like an orange exploding—“does its thing.”
“Show us?” Persephone asked, her excitement palpable.
Payton looked to the instructors, namely Boone, who shrugged. “We’re not here to tell you what you can and can’t do. As long as he doesn’t have a pulse when you’re done, you pass.”
Payton looked like he wanted to kiss Boone, not that he didn’t always look a little like he wanted to kiss Boone. He turned to Kendrick, who started blabbering, spittle flying from his mouth, flop sweat making his clothes instantly damp. He offered money and power, claiming he could fix this if they’d just listen for a moment.
The group closed around the man. All but Gift. He stayed back. He was okay with death, but he didn’t think torture would ever really be his thing. He was content knowing his friends would make Kendrick suffer. He just wanted to be the one to put him out of his misery at the end.
Gift winced at the gagging, then the shudder-inducing sound of metal over tooth enamel, followed by a wet crunch like someone chewing rocks.
And then the screaming started.
“Sick,” Gift heard Luca say gleefully.
“Twist it again,” Morgan begged.
“His eyes are so fucking wide right now, like a Halloween mask,” Dove said around a laugh.
“Almost as wide as his big fucking mouth,” Payton said.
Someone whistled low. “Damn, I think you broke his jaw,” Jay mused.
“If you open it any farther, you’ll kill him,” Remi warned. “And then you’ll just be playing with a dead body.”
“Get the thumbscrews,” Diego said.
“Shit, let’s just use all of it,” Luca countered.
Gift stood, wandering to where Park stood with his mothers, the instructors, and now, Aiden. He wrapped his arms around Park and put his head on his chest, not caring who saw them. Something unknotted in his chest when Park crushed him into a hug. “What’s wrong,ouen. Don’t want to play?”
“I don’t like torturing people,” Gift muttered, then looked at Boone. “That’s okay, right?”
Boone gave a soft laugh. “Torture isn’t part of the handler program, though it seems some are gunning for dual degrees.”
The only other one who seemed uninterested in the torture was Remi, who stood at the outside of the circle, looking around like he was waiting for a bell to ring so he could be dismissed. Gift closed his eyes, listening to Park’s heart to drown out the wet sounds of Kendrick being taken apart a piece at a time. Park swayed him in his arms like they were slow dancing, watching the carnage with a casual disinterest.
It seemed to go on for hours, but, in truth, it was probably less than twenty minutes. In retrospect, they’d all perhaps been a little too eager to try everything.
“Gift, do you still want to finish him?” Payton asked.
“You don’t have to,ouen,” Park said, kissing his forehead.
“But,” Dove said, “if youdidwant to, we brought you something…”
Gift frowned, turning around to see Payton and Dove standing side by side, hands behind their backs. He couldn’t stop himself from wandering closer. “What is it?”
