That gets his full attention. “Who are you people?”
“Grim Reapers. We are your reckoning, filth,” I spit, laughing.
Nodding to Purge, he walks over to hit record on his phone. He moves forward to take over the questioning.
“The only chance you have is to be honest, Peter. We will not ask more than once, understood?” Purge starts. “Now, I need names and ages of every child you’ve raped.”
The pedo opens and closes his mouth, eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I don’t know what you’re talking?—”
A thudding sound makes me grin. Ghost is holding a metal pipe, and he just swung it at Dolce’s abdomen. Damn, my husband moves fast.
Purge is pacing, a sign he’s barely containing his need to Rage Out. He snarls at Dolce. “Last fucking chance.”
The pitiful fucker starts to cry, and breaks.
He rattles off so many names and ages, my jaw goes slack with shock.
So many innocent children. I count as he goes, adding it up to twenty. Holy fuck.
Purge rushes over to stop recording, his eyes hard as glass.
I don’t just see red—I see black. A roar comes from my throat, and I grab the closest weapon—an axe—rushing forward.
My bloodlust is in full control.
That spurs on my guys. Purge comes closer with just his bare hands, and Ghost is holding a long, jagged blade.
I get to Dolce first.
In a rage, I tear his pants down. Grabbing his tiny little peen, I chop it right the fuck off. Blood sprays, and I dance in it. Dolce screams like a girl when his dick is cut off. His mouth moves, but no sound comes out.
Tossing my head back, I rub it into my skin. Laughing, I twirl in circles, tearing off my clothes. I want to bathe in his blood.
Dolce is still alive. We will fix that.
Purge steps forward, grabbing Dolce’s neck, throttling him.
Ghost comes next, going behind the dying man, thrusting the jagged blade up his ass. He thrusts on repeat, until Dolce’s body goes limp.
We all link hands as we dance, but I know my Ghost isn’t done. “Go,” I say to him.
He hums under his breath, as he makes art from the dead body.
I get chills watching him. I'm holding my breath, getting turned on from watching him desecrate the corpse.
Once he’s done, he steps back. I whistle, impressed as hell.
The guy is cut open, his intestines unraveled and placed in his mouth. Dolce’s balls are in his hand.
Talk about poetic justice.
My guys are naked, right along with me. They approach me, like the predators they are.
I let them come, smiling sadistically.
I'm lifted in the air and deposited in the large pool of blood.
We share a three-way kiss, then paw at each other like animals.
