Fuck, it feels good.
I’ve always toyed with my marks, forcing them to break when they see who’s come for them. Never gone far enough to butcher them.
Yet this feeling? This is what I should have done with each and every one of them.
Leaving the knife impaled, I step away, making sure I hold his eye contact. I want the psychotic look on my face to be the last thing he sees. I hope it haunts him all the way down to hell, making him live in fear until I get there. Making him regret ever stepping into my mom and I’s life.
Conrad was right; there was always one outcome.
It was me surviving, and their world burning to the ground.
Saint leans over to Morgan’s ear. “Now it’s my turn.”
Holly and Greg back away to a safe distance for Saint to start his show. His bloody horror show, might I add.
I should do the same, look away from what’s unfolding before me. I’ve had enough traumatic experiences to last a lifetime; adding on another layer won’t do me any good.
But I can’t.
Saint—quite literally—tears Morgan limb from limb.
His remaining fingers fly; chunks of skin slap off concrete as his knife cuts through it like butter.
And when the blood-curdling screams from Morgan eventually weaken, his decapitated head being thrown into the water, Saint finally turns away from what remains of him.
Blood coats every single inch of him. His white eyes are the only thing not tinged in red.
I should be broken with terror, worried that he’s cracked and gone into a psychosis.
Hell, maybe I should get checked out.
Because when the devil amongst us finally speaks, sparking a cigarette and blowing the toxins into the air, I smile.
“Fuck, I’ve needed that.”
27
Indie
purple rain - prince
OnceSaintwashesoffhis manic moment in the water next to us, we make our way up the cliff’s road. He bridal scoops me into his arms when he notices me struggling.
I told him I’d walk the rest of the way, and I could see it in his eyes. He wanted to argue with me, but instead he let it slide. Clearly, my hobbling got too much for him just now. Not that Holly or Greg have complained.
“I’ve got a change of clothes for you in the car, a gun,” Saint whispers in my ear, kissing me on the forehead, “and a knife, since you seem to prefer those.”
My smile creeps up my face as I open my mouth to say thanks, until Greg grinds to a halt, followed by Holly.
I don’t know what’s going on, but I can hear the faint voice being muffled from outside his earpiece as they listen to whoever’s on the other end.
“We’re far enough away,” Holly says to Saint.
I frown, looking up at him, who has that look on his face.
It screams mayhem’s about to begin. “Are you ready to watch the beginning of the end?”
I glance at the archway of the tunnel, until I see Holly pull out some sort of remote, tightening her hand around it.
