“You’re sick, you know that?” I roll my eyes at Taylor’s mundane assessment of me and don’t waste my energyanswering her. Instead, I take the chair from the corner of the room, turn it around, and sit with my arms folded on the back.
“Don’t look at him.” When the tip of the knife touches Taylor once more, it nicks the skin of her lip and a tiny drop of blood bubbles to the surface.
It’s such a simple thing. Such fragile protection for a species that causes so much destruction.
“Please don’t do this, Berkleigh. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”
I swear to fuck if this woman puts a kink in our plans, I will end her. Although, that’s already the plan. I just won’t wait for Berkleigh to do it, I’ll end her myself.
“I don’t think you’re sorry. I don’t believe you, Taylor. This…” Berkleigh runs the blade down Taylor’s cheeks in a diagonal line, leaving behind a streak of red. It’s not a deep cut but it’s enough to make Taylor cry.
Those salty tears are gonna hurt.
“I am sorry. I’m so sorry. Please.” Taylor whispers that last word and it turns into a scream when Berkleigh slices the other cheek. Her eyes are trained on the line splitting in two, spilling blood down Taylor’s jaw and chin.
“You ruined what were supposed to be the best years of my life. And for what?” Now she’s just drawing random lines all over Taylor’s face, making her scream on a continuous loop. “You were popular and pretty.”
Not as pretty as Berkleigh, and she fucking knew it.
“I don’t know. I don’t know. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” Saliva is dripping from Taylor’s mouth as she begs for her life. I don’t think she cares about her looks or her status anymore. I guess her will to live has kicked in. Took her long enough.
Bending at the waist, Berkleigh goes eye to eye with Taylor and for a second, I wonder if I truly broke her. There’s no emotion inher voice, no compassion in her gaze, and her hand is as steady as a surgeon’s.
“I think you’re scared. I think you only have remorse because your life is in literal danger. And I also think that if I were to let you go, you'd return to the life of a bully. You’d continue hurting your husband, continue mistreating your children, and I’m guessing you’d be a bitch to every woman you consider a threat.” Berkleigh stands to her full height and looks over at me, a small smile on her stunning face. “Don’t you agree?”
Elbows resting against the back of the chair with my hand cupping my jaw, I shrug. “I mean, I would have killed her exactly five minutes after we got here so, yeah. Agreed.” We need to move this along to the part where my dick is in her pussy and she’s coming all over me.
The deafening sound of metal to the concrete as Berkleigh drops her knife and turns toward the stairs is slightly disappointing. My girl thinks she can spare Taylor’s life. That’s not happening. It can’t happen. Taylor’s fate was sealed the moment I decided to stuff her in my car and bring her here.
“Ha!” Taylor surprises us both with a loud scoff and all my hopes come running back. “You always were a coward and a quitter. Now, if you’re done with this little theater piece, just let me go and I’ll pretend it never happened.” Delusional isn’t even close to the truth. This woman just signed her death warrant from the one person who tried to save her.
In a move I didn’t see coming, at least not this fast, Berkleigh turns back around, bends at the knees, and in one fell swoop, picks up the knife and plants it right in Taylor’s jugular.
My girl doesn’t flinch, she doesn’t shake. With her hand steady and her eyes on the prize, she gives the handle a final push, then twists it for maximum damage.
I taught her that move.
Because this is Berkleigh’s kill, her first, I watch every move she makes. Every breath she takes tells me exactly how she’s feeling, which is important in cases like this. My goal isn’t to cause her more trauma, it’s to take back her power.
And yes, I’m well aware that my methods are extreme but I never said I was balanced and reasonable.
For two long minutes, Berkleigh stares at Taylor as the life she once had vanishes from her eyes. I’m ready to reassure my Sweet Bee that she did nothing wrong. That the world is a better place without that woman in it. That her husband will raise two amazing little girls without the influence of their abusive mother.
Except, I don’t need to tell her anything because the moment Taylor takes her last breath, Berkleigh pulls out the knife and wipes it on her leather pants, a small smile painted across her mouth. Blood is everywhere—a problem I’ll deal with in a minute—covering my Sweet Bee from chest to thigh. It’s my fault, really. I should have told her that standing behind someone, in these cases, reduces the risk of getting their DNA all over you.
I suppose that’s a lesson for another day.
When she walks over to me with her eyes shining bright, her mouth curved into a genuine smile, I stand and kick the chair to the side. Usually, I would stay far away from a victim’s blood, but today is not usual and the blood is an offering more than a kill.
Not to mention, when Berkleigh leans in and runs her tongue across my lips as she speaks into my mouth, I get hard as a fucking rock and I won’t let anything keep us from our well-deserved orgasms.
“You were right. It’s so much better with leather.” And those words will earn her an extra dose of pleasure.
Chapter Sixteen
Berkleigh
“Can’t we just wash them?” I’m pouting like a toddler, more emotional about having to burn my new faux-leather pants than the body lying in pieces below them.
