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“What am I going to do? It’s something that should have been done a long time ago.” Grabbing his dick brutally in my hand, he quickly realises what my knife is doing so close to him.
But I’m too far gone to stop now. Cries fill the room when I insert my knife deep into his balls, incising every inch of him. His words are incoherent, but I won’t stop until his cock falls on the floor. Continuing along that track, I harden my grip, moving the knife all the way around until it’s positioned at the top of his dick.
“Wait. Wait. I’ll tell you. I-it was Captain Hall,” he blurts out, making Scott and I pause abruptly, our attention fully captured.
Cap Hall. Motherfucker. I knew this guy wasn’t clean. You’d think politicians and police would be the ones you’d go to if you had a problem. It turns out that they’re the sick ones in their little game. Although we’ve been working with some of them for years with the same goal, others see women as objects and money-makers. That makes me sick.
“Something else to add?” I ask. Tears stream down his face. He’s not going to give more information. He knows he’s going to die anyway. “Very well. I’ll make sure the Cap receives some part of you.” The grip on my knife is strong when I try to slice his dick. It takes me three tries before I have it right where I want it: on the floor. The sound of his screams fills the air, resembling the desperate cries of a trapped animal. Good. I don’t think he was bothered when the women begged him before he shoved his disgusting cock inside of them. He’ll never do that again.
After he passes out, Scott looks at me. “That was… a masterpiece.”
“I wonder if you’re not even crazier than I am,” I muse, cleaning the blood off the knife with my shirt.
“Maybe,” he says, his shoulders rising and falling in sync with his words. “But I didn’t finish playing with him.”
“I don’t think he’s dead, so you can still play with your toy if you feel like it. Shall we send a wee present to our dear friend Cap Hall? I think he might like it before his turn comes,” I ask, a mischievous grin spreading across my face.
Once more, our heads turn as groans echo in the air, blood spilling from his lower half. He is a sight to see, with missing fingers and no cock to put anywhere. I’m surprised he’s still alive. With each passing second, his cries intensify, reaching new volume levels. I’m sick of this shit. There won’t be any extra information coming from him.
“He’s for you,” I tell Scott, who’s more than happy to end him. I turn towards the guy. “Thank you for this information. But I’m afraid you’re no longer needed.”
Leaning in the back, I observe Scott approaching him like a predator, his knife swiftly transitioning between his hands.
“You can say ‘hi’ to Satan for us,” Scott says before slicing his throat in one perfect swift motion.
I watch as blood drips from his throat as he tries to speak, his words muffled by it. He won’t die right away. That’s the beauty of being sliced. Maybe he’ll think of the consequences of his actions before Hell takes him.
“Well, that was quick,” says Scott. “I don’t think we ever had a fucker giving us answers that fast,” he adds, cleaning his knife on his trousers.
“Yeah, I think he understood he wouldn’t get away with The Spectre and The Slicer.” That makes him chuckle.
“Seriously, that’s sick. I love my nickname.”
“Because you’re a psycho. I don’t understand how you can be sweet with your sisters. That doesn’t match your psycho mentality,” I say with a wink.
This guy would do anything for the twins. Bailey has always been the sweet one, while Blakely was the feisty, shy, curvy one. Thinking about her makes my heart sink.
She was mine, and I lost her. I’ll do it a thousand times if it means keeping her safe and away from these predators.
“You okay, man? I lost you for a minute.”
I shake my head to clear my thoughts and answer, “All good. I zoned out. Shall we go? I’ll call Tim so he can send the cleaning team.” He nods at me.
“Home or the Neox?” he asks.
I really don’t want to go to our main club right now, so there’s no surprise when I say, “I’ll head home, but you do you, boo.” I wink at him.
“Wanker.”
The urge to remove my mask and shower is overwhelming. My skin feels like it’s crawling with something. It has been a while since I allowed myself to think about Blakely, and fuck if that doesn’t hurt.
“Let’s go,” he says as his eyes linger on the dead body still attached to the lounge chair.
We make our way out of this shit hole, and I’m almost running towards my motorbike while he’s walking to his SUV.
“See you at home, fucker,” I say, with my helmet already on my head. He flicks me the finger before I drive off.
The old building before us looks like it could crumble at any second. The unmistakable stench of decay fills my nostrils as I watch the rats dart across the street. The moon’s glow is the only thing visible in the pitch-black darkness.
