Page 73 of The Devil of Hollywood

Faster, I paced.

Faster, I prowled.

There was so much blood on the floor below them. Between them. Smears were visible where my stained dress had drug against the floor. I looked like I’d been splattered by red. And I had, at my doing. The repeated blows covered me with what was mine—their lives.

“Please.” The urgency in my whispered plea didn’t encompass how desperate I was for something. I needed… something more. Something!

Left. Right. Back. Forth.

My stare never left the guard that gave the signal. My breath kept catching. I was gripping to the handle of the knife so tightly it was the only pain making itself known.

More yells from Drayton. And me. Again, I parroted his pain without thought. It was there, inside me. Pushing. Eating away at my resolve. My sanity.

“Last wounds, and then we’ll move on to their deaths, Mrs. Pennington. Better make it good.”

I didn’t turn at The Unavowed’s booming voice. I pivoted on my feet, waiting like a caged animal. Waiting. Waiting! The guard nodded to me, and I didn’t have to think what I was going to do—I knew. The fast steps had me sliding against the wet, blood covered floor at my approach, but I didn’t fall. I leveled underneath David, pulling up the dress and sliding to my knees. I was breathing so heavily as I looked up at the oozing, mutilated meat between his legs. I’d done that. I had destroyed his manhood. I’d cut and battered it into nothingness.

It still wasn’t good enough. The quick actions and kneeling had made my own pain come rushing to the forefront of my awareness. They all had to feel this trauma. They had to physically see how much it hurt me.

Pointing the blade up, I fisted the handle in both my hands, driving the long knife straight between the area where his sac had been and where his ass began. David’s body went rigid and blood waterfalled out across my lap as I twisted the weapon in a circle. Multiple gasps rang out, and immediate screams came from Simon as he fought the restraints beside me. I could see his fear in my peripheral as I began pulling and pushing, carving and rounding a hole even wider between David’s legs.

Convulsions and a deep hum shook David’s body. Vomit shot from his nose and dribbled along my bicep and into the side of my hair, but it only had me wielding the blade in the enlarging cavity even more. I put all my strength in cutting through the muscle. I hit bone at one point. It only redirected me as I stole flashes of his horror-filled eyes as they faded.

Burning in my arms was making it impossible to continue. I screamed. The sounds that left me sounded distant. I kept going as time went in and out. Horror turned to hollow. I wasn’t sure if David passed out or died. I didn’t care. There was a certain peace in knowing he’d been looking at me when he slipped away. My body could suddenly feel agony, and the knife fumbled in my grasp. I blinked away the internal screaming, trying to grasp my surroundings. Trying to reign in the havoc taking over my mind. I stood, not turning to Simon. I took in everything about David’s face, lifting his head just enough to slide the knife under his chin and jerk it against his throat to finish what I started.

Dead.

Silence.

More blood.

Drip-drip.

Drip-drip.

Two wounds. I was finished with my turn. Simon would be next. I let that register as I eased a few feet back, keeping my glare locked on the one man left that I could make pay as I eased to the ground to sit. I wanted his death to make a statement. No act big or small mattered. If you participated, there was a chance you might pay for it. Maybe these guards would receive my message through my violence. Maybe they didn’t care. One day, though, they might. Maybe I’d be back here. Maybe I could offer more to The Unavowed to let me continue what I started. Not today. I barely had strength enough to move. But soon… Soon, I’d try to strike a deal. No price was too high for revenge.

“Fuck. Fuck!”

Yells.

Grunts.

I rocked as I listened to Drayton. The Unavowed seemed to be also increasing his pain. He was waiting for the end to hurt Drayton the most. My fingers pushed into stone, trying to keep me in place. To turn around would make this worse for the man I married. For my husband. Drayton didn’t deserve to suffer on top of what I’d done. He hated me for everything he lost—for never speaking up loud enough. The fact of the matter kept sinking in. Drayton was my husband. My husband hated me. Blamed me. He had every right to. Hate. Me. He had hoped to hurt me. Hurt. Yes. He wanted me to pay for my crimes. Had I paid? Had I… suffered enough?

I blinked through the question, letting it consume me. The room faded as I rocked. It was a voice that had me lifting my gaze from the blurry ground.

“Last two.”

Simon was already sobbing, letting out muffled screams as I let my gaze turn to him. I looked around the room to the guards who all watched. Their faces were unreadable. There were too many conflicting expressions for me to fully grasp. Hate. Fear. Uncertainty. I liked the way that made me feel. I didn’t like the rage I saw from some. It made me want to cower again. To lower to the ground and disappear for good. I couldn’t do that. Not when my strength mattered the most. See…

They.

Had.

To.

See.