Still, a dark part of me is enjoying the process. Enjoying cutting into this woman’s flesh and listening to her whine and hiss in pain.
I shove that part down and when I’m done, I dart over and grab the sheet off my bed. I start wiping her blood off on the sheet.
“I see what you’re doing,” she says quietly. “That’s smart…but damn it hurts.” She squirms when I squeeze her to try to get more blood out of her wounds onto the thin fabric.
“In a couple hours, everyone will be drunk and they won’t have as many questions. They’ll see me carrying you out, but they won’t remember much in the morning,” I explain. “So, you’re going to have to stay up here with me until then.”
“Do you need to cut me anymore?” she asks.
I shake my head. “No, that’s it.” I toss the bloodied sheet on the floor and then rummage through my dresser for a moment.
“Here, put this on. It’s something to cover you at least,” I tell her as I toss her one of my dress shirts.
I can’t help but think of Tommy wearing one of my shirts when I do this. It absolutely wouldn’t work because he’s bigger than me. I smirk at the thought. Him trying to squeeze into a shirt too small for him…
Once Jules is seated on the edge of my bed, I lean against the wall nearby, and wait.
Getting Jules out of the Bianchi estate is easier than I even expected. She’s wrapped up in the sheet and slung over my shoulder, told not to make a sound or move a muscle. I don’t even meet anyone’s eyes as I slip out the front door to my car with her. They’ll see on the security cameras what happened when they look at them the next day, so I remind her not to move until I tell her to.
I sling her in the backseat of my car instead of the trunk and pull out of the driveway like a bat out of hell.
Once we’re about a mile down the road, I glance in the rearview mirror.
“You’re good now,” I tell her.
“I can move?” she asks.
“Yes.”
She sits up slowly, pulling the sheet off.
“Why did you do this?” she asks.
I turn down another road. “Because I’m not a rapist,” I tell her.
“What are you?” she asks.
“A killer,” I reply. “But not without reason, and I don’t kidnap and mutilate virgins for birthday fun.”
She laughs breathlessly, but her face is white with fear. “I’m glad for that,” she whispers.
The remainder of the drive is quiet, until we pull up to the Dresvanni estate, and I help her out of the car. I hoist her into my arms so she doesn’t have to walk across the cold wet ground.
I pound on the door until it finally opens with a tired looking Carmine dressed in silk pajamas there.
“Aleksandr?” he asks, and his eyes shift down to the woman in my arms. “What are you doing here?”
I shove past him and inside, setting her down in the entryway. She wobbles on her feet.
“The Bianchi were going to rape and kill this woman for a birthday party,” I tell him, my words coming out in a rough growl. “I thought they were bad, but I had no idea just how fucking disgusting they are.”
Carmine blinks at me, and then looks at the woman, trying to piece things together. “And you…rescued her and brought her here?” he asks me.
He steps closer to her but she flinches.
“Yes. You’re the only contact I have that I feel I can trust,” I explain. My accent switching to my natural one.
“Why are you talking like that?” Jules asks. “I thought you were American.”
