I lean closer again.
“So here’s how this works,” I continue. “Everything you did to her, I’m going to make you feel. Then I’m going to do it again. And then I’m going to do it a third time, just to be sure it really fucking hurts.”
His eyes fill, terror finally registering.
“I’ve done a lot of things,” I add. “I’ve taken my time with people who begged. I’ve learned exactly how much a body can handle before it gives up, and exactly how to stop it from doing that.”
I lean closer.
“And I’ve been excited before. But you’re special.”
I move my hand from his arm to his face and cup his jaw, fingers digging into the hinge where bone meets bone. He tries to pull away, but the straps hold him tight. His breath comes fast and shallow, lips trembling, teeth chattering as his body understands what is coming before his mind catches up.
“So just know,” I tighten my grip. “I’m going to end you. Not fast. We’re going to take our time. We’re going to enjoy this.”
Elliot cries out.
“And when it finally gets too much,” I add, lowering my voice, “the last thing you’re going to see is her standing over you, smiling.”
I hit his jaw hard and fast.
The sound is a sickening crack that echoes in the warehouse. His mouth snaps open at the wrong angle. Teeth clack together before one skids free, clattering to the floor. Blood pours down his chin as he screams, the sound mangled and uneven, his body thrashing uselessly against the restraints while the song plays on, filling the room.
I laugh quietly.
Elliot tries to yell. It comes out wrong.
His jaw hangs at a crooked angle, blood pouring down his chin and soaking into his collar. His tongue drags clumsily against broken teeth as he forces the words out, every syllable chewed to pieces by bone that no longer works.
“Cuh… Cuh-linn,” he mumbles. Spit and blood spray with it. “Colin’s gonna find you.” His eyes roll, unfocused but burning. “He’s gonna fuckin’ kill both of you.” He sucks in a wet breath and keeps going, voice slurred and thick. “Gonna make it worse. Worse than this.” Another broken sound tears out of him. “Make you watch her die first.” His mouth twists, trying to smile. “He’ll fuck her in front of you too.”
I sigh.
“Oh yes,” I say calmly. “Your brother Grant.” I tilt my head. “Or Colin, since you want to be personal about it.”
I crouch down so we are eye level. I want him looking at me when I say it.
“I’ve got plans for him too,” I go on. “A lot of them.” I glance back toward Brooke for half a second, then return my attention to Elliot. “If he comes for us, he saves me the trouble.”
I straighten and rest a hand on the back of the chair, leaning in close enough that he can feel my breath against his ruined mouth.
“He’ll be doing me a favor. He can come all the way here to die instead of me hunting him down.” I smile again. “That sounds convenient as hell.”
Two hours pass.
I keep track because I want him to know I have time. I want him to understand that this isn’t a moment of rage or a loss of control. This is patience. This is intention.
By the end of it, the floor is slick. Blood has pooled and dried and pooled again. His breathing has gone ragged and uneven, his chest hitching in short, panicked pulls that never quite fill his lungs. I tear muscle where it screams the loudest and then move on before his body can give up. I make sure he stays conscious. I make sure he feels every second. I talk while I work.
He cries. He begs. He sobs until his throat is shredded and all that comes out are wet, broken sounds.
Eventually, I stop. I step back and look at him.
“You know what the funny part is,” I say, voice calm. “I expected more.”
His head lolls forward, chin slick with blood. One eye has swollen shut. The other tracks me weakly.
“I thought you were going to be ruthless,” I go on. “I thought you’d be slightly intimidating.”
