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He looks too fucking hot doing that, his tattooed arms making me lose myself for just a moment until he gives me a knowing look. “Keep looking at me like that, sugar, and we might have to give Cyrus here a show.”
My breath stutters in my chest as I expect panic to wash over me. But it never comes. Ace is joking. Or at least I think he is, and even if he isn’t, I know he’s never going to let anyone hurt me the way Cyrus let his friends hurt me.
I shake my head and turn back to the table, giving myself a few moments to steady myself. I dreamed of this moment so many times as I lay awake at night, waiting for him to come for me. I thought about taking his knife off the table when I was kneeling at his feet as he ate and shoving it through his chest.
I thought about stealing his gun as he forced me to go down on him and shooting him in the dick as punishment for all the things he did to me. If there’s a way to kill someone, I’ve probably thought about killing Cyrus like that. But now that the choice is upon me, I can’t decide which one will cause him the most pain.
I turn to the man who caused me unspeakable pain. His blonde hair is slicked back with sweat, his dark eyes just as cold as I remember them. Even tied up and at my mercy, he looks fucking cruel. “It’s been a long time,” I muse, leaning back against the table casually.
“You don’t have to do this, pet. You know I’ll have people looking for me. Do you want to cause problems for your new friends?” His voice is hoarse, and I imagine he spent a good amount of time overnight screaming for help.
“If I don’t kill you, they will.” I shrug. “And they’re far more practiced at making it hurt than I am…kinda like you were with me.”
His eyes flash with something akin to fear, but I know better than to think a man like him could feel such an emotion. He’s heartless. Dead inside. He has to be to have done the things he has as he made the world believe he’s an upstanding citizen.
I swipe a small knife off the table and turn to face him, taking in his naked body. He’s not an unattractive man by any stretch of the imagination, but having a soul as black as his could make anyone ugly. His washboard abs are as I remember them, and memories of being forced to kneel in the corner on hard concrete while he did his workouts wash over me.
Fuck.
I close my eyes and breathe in a steadying breath.
I’m safe.
Nothing can hurt me.
Not with Ace just a few feet away.
“You know, I used to imagine killing you all the time. Probably the same amount I considered ending myself. I wished for death more times than I can count.” I half laugh and shake my head. “And I’m going to make you wish for death now.”
The first slice across his chest is almost too satisfying. I didn’t get to take my time with Kyle. It was rushed. Messy. Desperate. But I have all day. Hell, I’m sure if I wanted to keep him alive, Ace could have Doc come in once a day to clean up whatever mess I’ve made and make sure it doesn’t get infected, just so I can do it all again the following day.
I glance over at Ace, who watches me closely, his brows tugging together with a mix of concern and something else I can’t quite put a finger on.
I don’t want to drag this out.
I want to go home with Ace and show him how grateful I am for this gift. A gift I didn’t even know I needed until I walked into this room and saw my tormentor bound and at my mercy.
The knife moves through his skin easily, and I watch as blood drips from each of the wounds I inflict. It’s fucking addictive, and for a moment I wonder if Tommy needs any help in his role with Frost Industries.
Then I consider whether it would give Ace a heart attack knowing I was surrounded by criminals all day every day and decide against it.
Cyrus tries not to react, and he does a decent job at it, if I’m honest. Perhaps this is an instance of him practicing what he preaches because he used to expect me to take every single beating without flinching, just accepting what he was doing to my body.
A smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I carve his chest up the same way I did Kyle, but the words are different. I want his body found. I want the whole fucking world to know what the leader of the world’s most prestigious chain of banks was doing in his spare time.
Rapist.
Abuser.
Captor.
Owner.
Cunt.
It’s only when I approach his lower stomach that his body begins trembling. Either the pain is getting the better of him, or he’s worried I’m going to hurt his precious penis. And it’s not completely off the cards, but I don’t think Ace would want me touching another man’s dick, and I’d rather never have that vile appendage near me ever again.
Cyrus pants as he watches my every move, and I can’t help but enjoy the fear in his eyes. Does that make me as sick as he is? Or is this part of taking back my power?
