“What… what do you want?” he eventually asks, tears rolling down his cheeks.
I wipe one of them away with the tip of the gun. “Shh… It isn’t that serious. Stop blubbering,” I say, stroking his face. “I just want to talk.”
“I haven’t done anything—My brother used to cheat on his college exams. That’s it. That’s all—”
“You think this is about cheating on your college exams?” I ask, huffing. “Don’t make me laugh. Colleges can’t afford me.”
“I don’t know! I haven’t done anything!”
I take the gun away from his head and point it at his brother. “Are you sure?”
“Wait—no—No, I swear that’s it!”
It’s easy to slip my knife from the bag around my chest, and when I sit the tip beneath his chin, he chokes on a sob.
“We haven’t done anything—”
“Wren Kelly,” I say, tilting my head.
He shuts up in the midst of his mewling, and thank fuck for the helmet on my head so he can’t see the smug look on my face.
“Wr—Wren?” he manages.
“Don’t say her name like some love-drunk teenager,” I snap.
His lips press together like he’s terrified to speak, and I go on, flicking away another tear from his cheek with my blade.
“I will say this once: she’s not your business. Neither is Reed Matthews. She does not belong to you. You do not need to save her. She is perfectly happy and safe where she is. She does not even know you exist, and she never will. If either of their names come from you or your brother’s mouths ever again, I will not be this nice. Do you understand me?”
He gulps and nods.
“Speak,” I demand.
He flinches hard and shrinks into the seat. “Y-yes. Yes, I understand. Please don’t hurt me.”
“You will not make any more videos about them or contact Wren’s belovedsistereither,” I go on. “They are all dead as far as you are concerned.”
“O-okay.Okay,” he manages.
I almost feel bad for him.
It’s clearly his first time being in this situation.
My head tilts as I peer his feeble figure over. “Do you know what happens if I have to tell you twice?” I ask, slowly dragging the dull side of the knife down his cheek.
“I die?” he squeaks.
“I start with body parts,” I say.
His eyes widen, and for a few moments, we remain silent. I want him to sit with this fear, memorize it as his life flashesbehind his eyes. I want him to feel the tip of this blade and be so terrified of it coming in contact with the rest of his body that the mere sight of Wren Kelly makes him want to vomit.
His lips are curving downward, another spiral beginning. I jerk forward, and he screams, tucking his head underneath his hands.
That’ll do.
I pull the knife away, making sure to leave a cut on his jaw behind, and exit the vehicle.
“It was not a pleasure doing business with you,” I say.
