“And now you do,” Hudson finished.
Understanding slowly crept across Sam’s features.
His voice broke. “You’re—you’re insane. You’re fucking psychopaths. You can’t—you can’t do this!”
I snorted.
Beside me, Hudson brushed his thumb over Oliver’s jaw, wiping away the faint track of dried tears there. His attention was soft, tender in a way that was reserved solely for our pet.
“How would you like to die, Samuel? Quick? Slow? You can even look at our pet’s cunt as you go,” I mused.
Sam shook his head violently, then looked to Oliver again, as if looking for help.
Oliver looked wrecked, hardly awake enough to keep his eyes open as Hudson helped him to his feet and led him over to a fold-up chair. Oliver sank to the floor beside the chair on instinct and lay his head against my brother’s thigh once he sat.
“Oliver, please—” Sam begged.
Oliver’s head turned away from us. Hudson ran his fingers through our pet’s curls, then whispered something that even I couldn’t hear.
There was the slightest shake of Oliver’s head in response.
Hudson whispered something else, his hand continuing its gentle petting, then glanced up at me.
“He needs to go upstairs.”
“Why?” I questioned.
“Hayes…” Hudson sighed, shaking his head at me like he was disappointed.
“What? Don’t look at me like that, asshole.”
“You know he doesn’t like being down here for this part.”
I groaned, but relented. Oliver hated watching us kill. He deserved to be relaxing after what he’d just gone through, which, unlike us, didn’t involve butchering a man. “Yeah, fuck. Yeah.Sorry. I was,” I gestured at Sam, “obviously a bit distracted. Take him up. I’ll be there as soon as I’m done with this bastard.”
Sam choked on nothing. “Done with?! Please, don’t do this,” he begged, struggling against the cuffs. “I won’t tell anyone what happened. I swear. I’ll fucking move to a different country! Just let me go, please—Oliver, please, stop them! Please!”
Meanwhile, Hudson had stood up and lifted Ollie into a bridal hold.
I cut off the irritant’s blubbering to get his attention. “Ollie.”
Oliver twisted to look over Hudson’s shoulder at me, purposely avoiding making eye contact with the pleading man in the chair.
“I’ll finish this up quick, okay? I love you.”
“I love you too,” he mumbled sleepily, eyes slipping shut.
Hudson adjusted Oliver higher in his arms, cradling him against his chest, and turned toward the door. He nudged it open with his shoulder and disappeared through it. The door shut behind them with a click that swallowed the worst of Sam’s noise.
Silence settled.
Well.
Not silence.
There was still the hitched, panicked breathing of the man chained to my chair.
I rolled my neck once, working out the tension, and exhaled slowly. The air felt different without Oliver down here.
