Some men offer women flowers and jewelry as grand gestures. Mine offers me his blood debt.
Mine?
Ignoring the giant smoke signal going up, alerting me to the greatest threat before me—feelings.
“Are you sure, Braxton?” I have to ask because this is a monumental moment and I never want him to live in regret of not meting out the fate of his sister’s killer.
Brax only nods, and I dip my head in thanks before turning to the shitstain of high society. “How long has he been out?” I question without looking back as I hide my face and wipe the errant tears that leaked free.
“About ten minutes,” he replies.
Then I move, dropping the Ghostface and Freddy masks on the ground, and reaching into my duffel bag. First, I pull out my bat. It’s still covered in brain matter and other chunks of Griff and Fredrick. Next, I slip on my tactical gloves to ensure my grip is steady, even when blood drips down onto my hands. Finally, I lay out the fewthings I think I may need to gain closure—a set of sewing needles, a bone saw, and an icepick.
I pull the sewing needles from the pouch and stride over, stopping only when I’m before him. I prep a nail, happy when I notice even Mikah’s arms are trapped. It makes things much easier, though I will miss not getting to capture him myself.
Peering over my shoulder, I sneak a quick peek at Brax. My throat tightens at his generosity. I know how much this kill means to him as well, and for him to step aside and allow me to get the vengeance I thirst for makes me look at him differently.
It doesn’t change my stance on doing anything but fucking or fighting him, though. That road is permanently closed. Who needs men when I have so many toys?
You, you horny bitch.
I can fuck myself, I argue.
Not the way you’ve been craving.
Annoyed, I shrug off the Team Braxton whore occupying my body and refocus my attention where it belongs—on Mikah.
Lifting his index finger, I twirl the needle before jamming it under his nail, but he doesn’t stir.
I glance back at Brax. “Did you kill him?”
He laughs, shaking his head and shrugging. “I may or may not have punched him in the head right before you arrived.”
It’s my turn to be amused before I turn away. Grabbing the next needle, I pick up his middle finger, and then his ring finger. This time, I grab the thickest among my set. And instead of ramming, I slowly twist it, watching it appear between his nail and nail bed. This one bleeds slower, but the action gets the response I want.
“Fuck,” Mikah screams. “What the f—” He stills, his words cut off once he notices me. “Tati.”
His voice is pained and remorseful. But fuck his remorse and his pain. He doesn’t get to feel regret. The only privilege he’ll get is to die by my hand.
“Tati,” he murmurs again. “You came. I knew you would. I planned it out perfectly, and it worked.”
That gets my attention. It’s not enough to stop me from pressingthe needle in and then lifting it until it rips, until the nail is loose. Then I pinch the nail and yank, tearing it completely from his finger. Blood spurts on my chest, some of it landing on my cheek.
I fight the instinct to throw up at the touch of his tainted blood. I begin to pull away until something damp wipes my face. “His dirty blood doesn’t get to touch your face,” Brax mutters, seemingly disgruntled.
Ignoring whatever that was, I reach for my pliers in my belt. I need to speed up this process. Being in Mikah’s presence threatens to unsettle me. One by one, I pull his nails off before I reach for my bone saw.
Panting and barely coherent, he still manages to speak. “Now,theycan’t get to you.Theypromised if you listened,they’d–”
Not caring for his ramblings, I grab the needle, shoving it until it pierces through the other side of his finger in the hopes he’ll shut the fuck up already.
“Please, Talia. You have to listen to me,” Mikah heaves between pained screams.
Obviously, the universe doesn’t agree because the fucker still has the ability to formulate coherent sentences.
Sweat rolls down Mikah’s face as he breathes through another needle. I’ve decided he can be Edward Needlehands. “Talia,” he breathes my name like a whispered prayer. “You have to listen to me.They are coming.”
Snickering, I retort, “Actually, Mikah, I don’t have to do shit else but exterminate you from existence, leaving you out here to rot with your brethren.”
