I use the time to strip him of his liquor store uniform, wrinkling my nose at the stench of sour sweat wafting from the pit stains. I hide it among the many piles of dirty clothes, indistinguishable from the rest.
Lifting the first zip tie, I bind his hands behind his back and his ankles together. The gag comes next, a bandana pushed between his teeth and secured around the back of his head. I roll him like a log to the center of the plastic.
The blue veins in his neck pulse with each heartbeat, his carotid artery visible beneath thin skin. Such a fragile thing, life. So easy to interrupt.
Eighteen minutes after his collapse, Danny’s eyelids flutter, his consciousness returning.
I sit on the coffee table across from him, knife balanced on my knee within his view.
As Danny registers his position, confusion gives way to panic. He jerks, a violent attempt to sit up that ends with a pathetic twitch of his shoulders. One knee drags a useless inch over the plastic before falling still again.
A breath tears out of his chest, and he tries again, harder this time, but his body refuses to follow through, limbs shuddering instead of obeying.
His gaze snaps to me.
I don’t move.
The panic spikes fast after that. I can see it in the way his breathing turns shallow and frantic as he tests himself again, rolling his shoulders, straining his wrists, bucking his hips. The disconnect becomes more obvious with each effort. Power without coordination. Rage without leverage.
Good.
A muffled sound forces its way past the gag, somewhere between a growl and a plea. His neck cords stand out as he tries to gather himself to use Command.
Nothing happens.
The motor lock holds.
Satisfaction sweeps through me, the way it always does when preparation pays off. I wasn’t sure how good this stuff was, considering the source, but it was worth the cost.
“I considered starting while you were unconscious,” I say, calm in a way that doesn’t match the inferno raging inside me. “But I want you to understand why this is happening.”
I shift the knife on my knee so the light catches on the sharp edge.
He mumbles, unintelligible through the gag.
I pull out the papers I’d torn from his notebook and hold them up for him to see. “You keep some interesting reading material.”
Fear replaces the panicked anger, and sweat beads on his forehead.
“There were sixteen entries before my sister.” I tuck the papers away again. “I came to make sure your claim on her dies with you, but it looks like I’m also performing a community service by removing some trash.”
Danny chokes on his gag, attempting to speak through it.
“Your explanations don’t interest me.” I stand upfrom the coffee table. “You’re a collector. A hunter. But you picked the wrong prey this time.”
His chest heaves with rapid breaths.
“My sister is sixteen,” I continue, each word enunciated to ensure he understands why this is happening. “She sold her suppressants for school supplies because I couldn’t afford both. And you used that vulnerability to take something from her that can never be given back.”
Danny tries to speak again, the fabric of the gag darkening with saliva as he works his jaw.
“You won’t be using Alpha Command on her again.” I unfold the knife, the blade catching the overhead light. “Or on anyone else.”
Tears leak down his temples.
I lean forward, balanced on the balls of my feet. “This is the first time I’ve dismembered someone. It might take a while.”
A high-pitched whine comes from him, and his eyes widen further, the whites visible all around his irises.
