“Just kill me,” Matilda snarls.
“Wrong answer,” I sing. “Do we have a metal spoon by chance?”
“I never leave home without one,” one of the men snorts, pulling it out of his back pocket.
Drego’s jaw drops, but I don’t care. This is his trial by fire. If he pukes during this, he’ll no longer be involved in anything important. I need people with lead stomachs and the ability to have the foresight to bring a goddamned spoon with them in case they need to remove an eyeball, dammit!
“You know what to do,” I say, watching as another man gives him a lighter to warm up the spoon. “Remember, Matilda. You did this to yourself. Here I was, being nice… You had to fuck it up.”
Jake grins at me over his shoulder before bringing the spoon to the eye with a remaining lid and digging it out. Very nice. Always leave them guessing. I like it.
“Keep the eye, Jake,” I say, watching as he nods, balancing it on the spoon. “If you hesitate, Matilda, I’ll make you eat it.”
“You’re a monster!”
“I do try,” I shrug, taking it as a compliment. Most people are too scared to call me one to my face. “Were you involved in the death of Helen and Alan?”
I wasn’t planning to ask that. It just…popped out. I always follow my gut, and this is where it’s leading me.
“How could I have been?” she asks. “Someone drove into oncoming traffic.”
“Did they?” I drawl.
“That’s what the police told me. The fact that I cut and drained their brake fluid didn’t matter, which was nice for me, wasn’t it?” Matilda asks, blood on her lips as she bares her teeth at me. “I’m going to die either way, you may as well know that while I did try, I was hoping that Bellamy and Winter would be with them when their brakes went out. It’s a pity they weren’t.”
Ever since I heard about the way their parents died, I’ve agonized about this. What if they were with them?
I whip her across the face again, aiming for the exposed eye, when I hear the gasp of horror.
“Bullseye,” Henri mutters under his breath as it ruptures gloriously under the force of my whip.
Glancing in the direction of the gasp, I find Bellamy and Ansel watching us.
“He wanted to come see,” Ansel sighs.
“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” I say with a wince.
Bellamy’s face is contorted in anger as he stares at Matilda, and Jake picks up a bat from the table beside him and brings it over to him. He hides the eyeball behind his back while he does, which I appreciate.
“Want a crack at her?” Jake asks. “Sometimes, it helps.”
“Yeah,” Bellamy says, the word sounding strangled and angry.
We watch as he takes the bat and stalks over to Matilda, fury in his gaze.
“You stupid fucking whore!”
The metal bat cracks against her hip with a clang, and Matilda gasps, unable to bring herself to scream.
“My mother loved you!”
Tears burn behind my eyes as he calls Helen his mother, remembering the way he said he didn’t know his biological mom.
“No. I loved her,” Matilda wheezes. “You’re no one.”
Shaking his head, he continues to beat the fuck out of her, breathing hard as he finally steps back. Matilda is a tough cookie, and hangs onto consciousness, though she’s beaten all to hell. Her skin shows the impact of Bellamy’s work, as welts and bruises begin to rise up.
Just because he didn’t enjoy exercise, doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a damn good swing.
