“Perfect again,” Eiden murmurs, the praise curling under my skin. His grip doesn’t falter, even as Sterling thrashes.
I slide the blade behind the orb, feeling the taut resistance of muscle before a twist and careful pull snapthe optic nerve. The eye slips into my palm, warm and slick, its perfect blue staring up at me.
Eiden releases him, letting his head hang forward, body shaking in the chains, blood dripping from his eye sockets.
I look at the twin in my hands, two perfect, glassy blues, and place them side by side on the steel plate. They’re glossy under the harsh light, and almost beautiful in their wrongness. My gaze drifts lower, to the final step of the ritual, the one I’ve been waiting for.
Eiden hasn’t moved far, he leans against the wall, one arm folded across his chest, the other cupped lazily over his crotch, the tilt of his head is pure amusement.
“You know,” he says, voice lazy but edged, “I’m starting to think I should’ve worn a cup tonight.”
I smirk, stepping closer to Sterling without looking away from him. “Why? Planning to make me angry?”
“No,” he says, shifting his grip with emphasis, “planning to keep these exactly where they are.” His masked gaze drops to the scalpel in my fingers. “Though watching you work… I might offer one voluntarily. For the right reason.”
A laugh escapes me, low, breathless. “Careful. I might take that as a challenge.”
Sterling’s muffled protests climb, the chains clinking with his panic. I step between his legs, the air thickening with every movement. The scalpel kisses the inside ofhis thigh, light at first, testing, teasing, before pressing just enough to draw a bead of blood.
“Easy,” Eiden murmurs. “Make it last, hellcat.”
I move Sterling’s dick up, and the scalpel sinks deeper into his testicle. His skin parts, the blood spills fast and hot over my gloves. Sterling bucks against the chains, a garbled scream shattering against the gag, but I don’t rush. I sever the cord with slowness, feeling every resistant strand give way until one perfect piece of his balls dangles from my fingers.
Eiden tilts his head, voice low and amused. “You know, hellcat… I don’t know if it’s safe to have you near my balls.”
I grin, dropping it onto the plate beside the eyes. “Don’t worry. Yours are safe… for now.”
His chuckle is dark, thick enough to curl around my spine. “Safe, hm? I’ll remember you said that.”
Sterling slumps forward, body trembling, breath shallow. Alive, barely. I hope he stays long enough for the rest of the ritual.
The plate waits with the twin blue eyes staring through the blood pooled beneath them, bright even in death. Beside them the two pale ovals rest together, obscene in their fragility. I look at them for a heartbeat before reaching for the needle and thread laid out.
Sterling groans and tries to lean away, but the chains groan with him, holding him exactly where I want him.
Eiden says nothing now, he simply watches, mask tilted, his presence a weight pressed along my spine.
I thread the needle slowly, my hands steady, my pulse calm, and I realize I’ve never done this with so much control.
“For every girl you drugged,” I say softly. “For everyone you raped… this is for them, for her.”
The needle pierces the raw flesh of his eyelid, and he jerks violently, but the steel around his wrists and ankles don’t give. I pull the thread through, black slicing against pale, binding the testicle in place where his eye once was. His muffled scream rattles through the gag.
“This is for the one you laughed at when she cried.” Another stitch.
“This is for the one who begged you to stop.”
Blood runs hot over my gloves, soaking into the fabric, warm against my skin even through the barrier. The testicle is slick, alien in its new place, but it fits, because I force it to. Because he will carry something for once in his life.
“This…” My voice drops as I meet the empty hollow where his other eye used to be. “…this is for her. For all of them.”
His body seizes, the noise he makes rising thin and high before breaking entirely. Then… silence. His head drops forward and the chains go still. I watch his chest for a rise that doesn’t come. He's gone, yet my hands keep working.
The last stitch pulls tight, sealing the socket in a neat, cruel shape. Only when I tie it off do I step back.
Pride settles deep in my chest. It’s beautiful in a macabre kind of way and now he will never hurt another soul, because in this room, every woman he thought powerless has her shadow stitched into his body. Justice carried him into the dark.
Eiden steps behind me. “You’re magnificent, hellcat.”
