One of them—skinny, scar on his jaw, looks like a fucking disgusting rat—is the one who cornered a girl in our territory two nights ago. Grabbed her in an alley behind the restaurant she works in, roughed her up. Thought no one would find out.
Too bad for him she screamed loud enough for my boys to hear.
I stare at him, and he stares at me like he already knows he’s going to die badly.
“You know,” I say, sounding like I’m talking to Ryo but keeping my eyes on the rat. “Of all the people I kill—and there’s a fucking lot—you know which ones I love to kill the most?”
Rat’s-face starts shaking.
“Rapists.” I grin wide.
I slide the blade for the second time tonight—my tanto, sweet and humming in my hand. She vibrates when she’s near filth.
Ryo clears his throat.
“We’re even after this. Yeah?”
“Sure. Whatever.”
I grab the rat bastard by the hair and drag him down till his face scrapes the pavement. He squeals behind the tape.
“Shh, shh, don’t cry yet,” I murmur, twisting a fistful of his hair. “The fun is just starting.”
The other one tries to bolt. Dumbass. He turns, takes a step, maybe two, and I let go of the first bastard’s hair so I can deal with this genius.
I catch him by the collar and slam him against the car. He tries to throw a punch, and I laugh in his face.They never fucking learn.I kick the side of his knee, watching the joint fold the wrong way. He screams and stumbles. I grab him by the ankle, drag him to the car hood, pin him there, and then press my weight into the back of his calf.
I hook my fingers under his knee and bend. The bone gives like dry wood. There’s a pop first, then a grind of cartilage,tendon and meat twisting around splinters. He screams, but I press harder until the leg folds and rips open, bone jutting out.
That’s going in my memory book.
I let him drop, watching his body twitch against the tire.
“Run next time.” He sobs through the tape. I grin and turn back to the rat on the ground. “Now, where were we?”
I take my time. Ryo lights a cigarette and leans back on his car without a word. He watches, though. Pretends not to, but I see him glance over every few seconds. Maybe he wants to make sure the payment is accepted. Maybe he wants to know what kind of animal I really am.
I show him.
I don’t kill them quickly, because I’m not boring.
I slice rat-face slowly—a piece of his thigh first, then his bicep, then his cock. Skin peels back like wet fruit, something always hilarious to see. His scream is gagged but it doesn’t matter. I hear it in his bones, in the way his body thrashes and trembles and sweats. The other guy is still trying to crawl away; I let him for now. He won’t go anywhere, anyway.
I drive the blade between rat-face’s ribs. Twist. Again. Again. His body jerks like a marionette, and when he stops moving, I leave him slumped in the gutter.
Then I turn to the crawler.
He’s pissing himself. I don’t even bother dragging him up. I kick him on his back and kneel over him. His eyes are wide, pleading. I lean in.
“You should’ve died before crossing our line.”
The blade goes in beneath his jaw. Up, hard, slow. I feel it scrape the roof of his mouth and then keep going in.
He doesn’t sing for me. But I collect another gasp.
Now it’s quiet. Just me, Ryo and the stench of blood soaking into neutral ground.
I wipe the blade on the second one’s jacket.
