The room isn’t large, about fifteen by fifteen, but every inch of wall space is utilized. Assault rifles hang in neat rows on one wall. A glass case displays handguns of various calibers. Sniper rifles, disassembled into their components, rest in custom foam cutouts. Another cabinet holds grenades, flash bombs, and small explosive devices. A third wall is dedicated entirely to blades—combat knives, throwing knives, serrated hunting knives, all arranged by size and purpose.
“Jesus Christ,” Keira whispers, turning in a slow circle. “This is...” She trails off, reaching toward a wickedly curved blade before pulling her hand back. “You have an entire armory hidden in your apartment.”
I watch Keira carefully, gauging her reaction to our arsenal. Most people would run. She stands taller.
“This cabinet,” I say, leading her to a locked steel case against the far wall, “is what you’re looking for.”
I enter a code on the electronic pad. The lock clicks, and I pull open the door to reveal rows of specialized tools—things that would never be found in a normal workshop.
“These,” I say, lifting a pair of needle-nose pliers with serrated inner edges, “are for extracting fingernails. Makes a man scream like nothing else.” I set them down, picking up a curved blade with a hooked end. “This is designed for cutting through cartilage—ears, nose.”
Keira’s eyes follow my hands, her breathing steady. No panic. No disgust.
“So,” I continue, setting the blade down, “you need to decide how you want this to go. Quick but bloody?” I gesture to the larger blades. “Or slow, with maximum pain?” I point to the collection of smaller, more specialized instruments.
Heat rises in my chest as I explain the options. This part of me, this darkness, has only ever been shared with Ace. Sharing it with Keira feels dangerous. Intimate.
“With the pain route, we focus on sensitive areas—fingernails, genitals, joints. Places with concentrated nerve endings.” My voice drops lower. “He’ll feel everything before he dies.”
I expect her to flinch, to reconsider. Instead, Keira steps closer, her fingertips hovering over a wicked-looking metal instrument.
“What does this do?” she asks, voice steady.
“Skin grafting. Removes layers of skin, one thin sheet at a time.”
She nods, considering. “And this?” She points to what appear to be oversized scissors.
“Bolt cutters. For fingers and toes.”
Her eyes meet mine, something fierce and unflinching there that makes my blood run hot. “I want both,” she says simply.
“Both?”
“Everything. Make him feel the pain first—every bit of it. Let him know exactly why it’s happening.” Her voice hardens. “Then make it bloody. I want him to suffer before he goes.”
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. This woman continues to surprise me.
“You’re serious.”
“Completely.” Her hand closes around one of the smaller blades. “Show me how to use these properly.”
Watching Keira hold that blade with such confidence ignites something primal in me. My cock hardens painfully against my zipper as her delicate fingers grip the handle with unexpected familiarity. There’s something intoxicating about this woman who dances with such grace, now selecting instruments of pain with the same careful precision.
“You know,” I say, voice dropping to that register that always makes her shiver, “we could try something else with these before we go.”
Keira’s eyes meet mine, questioning. “What do you mean?”
I step closer, the heat between us building as I take the blade from her hand, letting the flat side caress her forearm. “These don’t have to be just for him. We could play with them. For pleasure.”
Her breathing sharpens. Those beautiful eyes dilate, turning almost black with fear—or desire. I can’t quite tell which.
“You mean...” she trails off, swallowing hard.
“Knife play,” I clarify, dragging the dull edge up her arm, never breaking skin but letting her feel the cool metal. “While I fuck you.”
The door clicks behind us, and Ace steps through, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene.
Ace clears his throat. “You don’t have to let my brother do anything you don’t want, Keira.”
