Zain stands there full of ire, his eyes an endless void of darkness and despair. “The fuck?!” he bellows, rubbing his palms over his eye sockets.
His face relaxes when he sees it’s me, but he still wears his mask of indifference. It takes him all of five seconds to deduce something is wrong.
“Jax! He— The alley—” My breathy words can’t form a coherent sentence, but it doesn’t seem to matter. He grabs me by the cardigan and pulls me into his arms, slamming the door behind him. His large, tattooed hands cup my face roughly, forcing me to meet his piercing gaze.
He’s high again but no longer wearing that sluggish look like when he answered the door. He’s alert. “What happened, Vesper? Did that fucker touch you?” he growls.
I shake my head and catch my breath; I’m still winded from running. “No, he cornered me in the dark.”
His body tenses. “Why thefuckare you walking outside alone at midnight,” he shouts into my face, and I wince.
I take a step back. He steps forward, slamming my body into the ridged door. His eyes burn into me. “Go upstairs to my room. Do not fuckin’ leave no matter what the fuck you hear. Understand?” he says with a sinister seriousness. His eyes are void of sanity. I don’t need to question why. Iknowwhat he’s about to do. What he’s capable of.
I nod and rush past his rabid, heaving body. Each step I take makes my heart hammer against my chest. I don’t look back and I don’t stop until I slam his bedroom door. I bury myself in his dark sheets and drown out the savage crazy that’s undoubtedly about to ensue.
My throat contracts and I slam down my glass, cracking it. Gonna need a little liquid depressant to tamp down my depraved, bloodthirsty desires. I warned that fucker. He didn’t listen. Now I get to enjoy the spoils of making him bleed out slowly. My boots shake the kitchen cabinets as I stride through the first floor. My bedroom is my sanctuary and where I carry out any sick shit I need to do. Unfortunately, now that’s her sanctuary and our views of a haven vary greatly. I crave moments like this. She fears them.
I fling open the basement door, letting it slam against the wall with a vibrating thud. The dust settles to the floor below with each clop down the stairs as I plunge into the darkness. The slow dripping of dingy water is the only sound. My eyes take no time at all to adjust. I reach for the light switch and pull the cord. The loose bulb bathes the room in an orange glow. Don’t come down here often. This is Kieran’s space. It’s connected to an ancient tunnel system under our house that leads to an older crypt near the school. The house is old as fuck. Can easily move a body if needed. What a fuckin’ plus in this case.
The room has a punching bag dangling from the ceiling. Weights and benches fill up the corners of the room. This’ll do.
In the middle of the room, Jax rests against the chair, his wrists are tied in a double fisherman’s knot behind him. His feet are also strapped to the chair legs. I don’t fuck around; my knots are top tier. He struggles against the nylon rope. Angry red marks rub against his skin, cutting off his circulation. Muffled cries echo through the basement while saliva seeps through his makeshift gag. I push off the wall. The shadowy movement catches his attention under the blindfold. His head jerks in my direction. The sedative didn’t last long in his system. Good, I want him to feel every single thing I’m gonna do to him.
“You fucked up,” I say in a low rumbling timbre. The useless fuck starts crying! Full-blown tears run out from under his blindfold and down his cheeks. I let out a demented, unsettling laugh. His face pales. Could be from the drugs. Could be because I’m fucked.
Unintelligible words grow louder from behind his gag. My steps are slow and measured as I approach the Bluetooth speaker Kieran left resting on his weight bench. My boots crinkle the drop cloths I laid along the floor. I scroll through my phone and put on Slipknot, turning it up full blast so she doesn’t have to hear his bloodcurdling screams. Their entire album is an hour. Should be more than enough time to do what needs done.
The music makes him thrash against the chair. The sorry fuck knocks himself over onto his side. I stalk forward and circle him like a hawk. I’m the fuckin’ predator, and he touched what’s mine. Again. Should never have let him live the first time.
My eyes twitch, and I kick his stomach hard with my steel-toe boot. His mouth opens wider in his gag, but the music covers any pitifulsounds he makes. I set the chair upright, slamming it down against the concrete. His head bobs forward like a doll. Sweat sheens over his forehead. I lift the side of his shirt and see my handiwork still in the healing stages, now with a matching bruise from my boot.
Without hesitation, I rip the blindfold off. His hooded eyes squint, adjusting to the light. His brows furrow in a silent plea. Saliva drips down his mouth and gag as he desperately attempts to reason with me. Can’t reason with someone like me. He’s wasting his precious energy. The music drowns out his useless mumbles. I’ve lost all ability to focus and ratiocinate. Visions of his hands roaming up my Vesper flash back in my memory.
I see red. I let out a grunt, punching him repeatedly. Over and over, my fist connects with his face. He shakes when I hear a thundering crack. It’s loud enough to be heard over the music. Something definitely broke. Adrenaline takes over, and I don’t relent. He swells. I don’t let up, even as blood splatters across my hoodie and jeans. I smile like the sinister fuck I am.
His body seizes. My chest heaves as I show restraint. I know he’s still alive. I’ve not even started. I lean forward, ripping off the gag and toss it onto the floor. My hands grip the chairback on either side of him. I smell the distinct scent of coppery blood and fear. I inhale, drawing it in.
“Mine. Vesper ismine,” I growl into his ear over the music.
“Should watch out for her. They might wanna keep her as their own,” he says weakly, just loud enough for me to hear. He lifts his head enough to meet my gaze with a smug grin.
My eyes darken. I fish out my phone and lower the music. “What the fuck does that mean? No one touches her without me knowin’.”
He cackles. “Ask Kieran,” he wheezes. Blood drips from his lip onto his jeans.
Instantly, my vision blurs and I snap. I’m falling faster into my fucked-up mind. Blood roars in my ears, drowning out any other sound. I up the volume of the music and crack him in his jaw again, knocking his tooth loose in the process. What thefuckdoes Kieran know? I’m gonna find the fuck out as soon as I finish with this piece of shit.
His head lolls to the side, and I make out the distinct groan of pain. Good. Hurt like you hurt her. His hands strain against the arms of the chair, making his veins bulge.
If I had my switchblade, I would carve into his skin until he bleeds out. Still fuckin’ pissed I left it at Vesper’s estate. Hope her maid doesn’t find that shit.
I cock my head and dissect him, weighing the options of how I can make him suffer the most. Could slit his throat. Could waterboard the fucker.No. Gonna cut his fingers off. Want him to feel it. I’m hell-bent on delivering him agonizingly slow fuckery.
He refuses to meet my gaze. I push off the chair and stride over next to the speaker and grab the butcher knife I’d laid out. I twirl it in my hand, watching the reflection staring back at me through the stainless steel.
I dig around my hoodie and grab a double dose of molly. After slipping it under my tongue, I wait for the disconnection and disassociation. Wanna feel numb.
I prowl forward with a heavy chest and kneel before him. A sinister grin fills my lips. I use the tip of the blade against his forehead to push his head up from his chest. His scream hits my ears over the music. Wanna watch the light leave his eyes.
