Shrugging, he pulls out of Charlotte and jerks himself until he comes all over her lifeless body. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”
I whirl around, eyes narrowing to slits at Fredrick’s question. My full attention—on each word.
Isn’t.
That.
Why.
We’re.
Here.
My lips part to ask, but Fredrick subtly shakes his head. “Not now. Just know, I know what you do.
“Holy… fuck… shit,” I heave, the vice grip of her cunt catapults me back into the present.
Grunting, I roar out my release, slamming down into her chest until only the hilt protrudes, the blade penetrating flesh like a hot knife through cold butter.
But before I can bask in my dominance and revel in my kill, something sharp pinches the back of my neck.
Looking up, I see the smug glee in the cunt’s eyes before I’m falling.
Time feels as though it stills but also keeps moving. I can’t put it into words, I just know something’s wrong. The alarm bells are ringing, my neurons are shooting off emergency sirens, but I still can’t place it.
Blinking up, I can sense my awareness slipping from my grasp as I hit the ground slumped.
“You’ll look good on my little fox’s shelf,” the man in a black tactical suit singsongs. Blood still drips from his sword—my blood slips down his sword. He steps into the moonlight, his face covered in a mask that fits a warrior—a skilled contender of the highest caliber—the only opponent worthy of my death. He raises his katana again, and this time, I see the strike coming. And as Hell’s gates crank open, I willingly accept the reckoning before me. I step on the threshold and can’t help but wonder as the blade connects with my neck?—
What do you call the person who reaps the soul of the Reaper?
Fredrick
“Please,” she screams, begging me to let her go—to free her from the bear trap embedded in her mangled ankle.
“It’s far too soon for your pleading,” I tsk, wrapping the metal chain around one of the poles on the bed. Then I pull the other trap, watching in ravenous glee—in rapt attention as the bone in her ankle snaps. “Ahhh,” I sigh, lifting my hands to conduct her screams like an orchestra playingSymphonie fantastiqueat Musikverein—the macabre piece, perfect for the scene in front of me.
A spluttering whine sounds behind me, and I remember I have guests to entertain before Talia arrives.
Talia.
Images of her tender, young, supple body come to mind. We’ve tracked her through the years, though we lost her for ten years after her escape. It wasn’t until she resurfaced that we understood why. She was being hidden until she was ready to be found.
“Let me the fuck out of here.” The gravelly voice echoes from the cage to my left, where I’ve kept the driver who brought this latest batch ofvisitors. The interruption pulls my attention away from the other two women I have chained by the ankle across the room.
One of them belongs to Griff, and the other to Jackson. Neither of them responded when I asked why their picks are still roaming freely.
Snooze—you lose.
I already have so many plans for them tonight.
Grinning, I reply, “Do you want to know why you’re here, Barty boy?”
He chuffs, “You’re supposed to let me go.” The stern set of his brow is meant to appear intimidating. At least that’s what I think he’s going for. Instead, he looks like some hybrid of constipated and goofy.
Stepping away from my beauty on the bed, I stroll to his cell. “Don’t you find it interesting how nobody ever knows everything that goes down here?” I fiddle with a strand of his hair. “Don’t you wonder why they pay so much just for you to drive a box truck filled with our prey?”
His pupils dilate, tripling in size, and I snicker. “W-w-w-what do you mean?”
