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Chapter Three
COBRA
Popping noises filled the air as cartilage and ligaments snapped away from bone.
Gnawing on the inside of my lip, I let the rope go and watched his body slump awkwardly against the tilted platform.
Isaac, as his nametag deemed him, had passed out.
Again.
I mean, he’d also pissed himself and thrown up, but at least he was awake when those things happened.
I surveyed his separated hips and shoulders, dislocated elbows and knees, confirming what I’d figured out about a half hour ago.
This whiny fuck had been telling the truth. He didn’t know any of the inner workings of Centriole or have a single clue about what Vitus’ agenda could be. He was nothing more than a lowly employee sent out to monitor the power grid.
He’d been going about his business when an acolyte snatched him up and dragged his ass straight to the devil’s playground.
I glanced at the clock hanging above the mini bar, timing myself at a little over two hours. I’d tortured him for an hour longer than necessary—that wasn’t too bad, if you ask me.
I gave a sharp tug on the knife I’d stabbed into the wood beside his face. The blade came right out, leaving a small indent behind.
Looking at Isaac, I debated what I wanted to do to him next. I could leave him exactly as he was, or end it all now.
His death was inevitable; whether it came in the next two seconds or in a few hours, making him wait wasn’t going to change the outcome, and I couldn’t care less about his pain.
Fuck, I relished his pain.
I’d always had a strong affinity when it came to making motherfuckers beg, bleed, and scream.
I needed the release that came with their anguish and despair.
It was my self-imposed buffer that kept me from analyzing the bullshit inside my head.
Coming to a decision, I flipped my buck-bone blade around and dug it into Isaac’s chest.
Starting right beneath his throat, I made a jagged line down the center of his torso. He only jerked once, but that was more than likely his body going into immediate shock.
My blade was slightly dull and could use a good sharpening, which made me have to work a bit harder to finish my task, but I didn’t mind.
I wasn’t in a rush.
Me and Rockwell sang about someone watching him.
The longer I worked, the more my muscles relaxed. A sense of tranquility washed over me.
I couldn’t tell ya when Isaac’s eyes had flown open, because by the time I noticed, they were rolling around, nearly bulging from their sockets.
He made a low keening sound for a minute or two, and then his head lolled. Isaac was gone, dead, and soon to be in a shallow pit.
Agonal breathing had his insides looking like the head of a boil ready to burst at any given second.
It was fucking fascinating.
Adipose tissue rubbed against my knuckles. The texture reminded me of the scrambled eggs I’d eaten hours ago.
When I reached where all six inches of his limp dick hung, I stopped and wiped my blade clean on his fuzzy balls.
