Pivoting, I slam the tip of the knife into the center of his hand, pinning it to the wooden armrest. His yell is fucking beautiful, as it bounces off the walls, ringing in my head.
With his screams, the voices stop. The ghosts disappear.
I only ever have this silence in Killian’s arms.
Notching the tip into the grain, I gesture to Killian for his next blade. “Now that I have your attention,” I begin casually. “I hope you’ll be more forthcoming with your answers.”
Murray whines, head rolling back. “I can’t give you any secrets?—”
“Oh, but you can.” Leaning over him, I slap his cheek. “You dispatch the assassins. Have you sent any more out?”
He turns away, but I don’t let him go far. The next blade cuts into his shoulder and pushes through to the back of the seat. It’s like puncturing a pillow—a sack full of blood, fat, and flabby muscle.
The shout is immediate, garbled by his spit. Swiping my thumb through the seeping blood, I smear it onto his cheek.
“I have to say, Murray, red is your color.”
Killian cackles behind me.
“Let’s try again.” I place my hand on the hilt of the blade. “If you don’t answer, I’ll slice this knife through your entire arm. I think there are a few arteries in there. You’ll bleed out.” I shrug, almost like it’s an afterthought. “You’ll die. But don’t think that’s where this ends.”
Hovering over his face, I pinch his cheeks between my hands. “I know about your wife. And if you think I won’t go after her because she’s a woman, then you severely underestimate my ability to destroy everything you love.Don’t.”
I twist the blade to remind him of what’s at stake.
“Talk, Murray,” Killian demands from my side. “Who else did you send out?”
Panting, he screws his eyes shut. “You’re a monster, Ace.”
“My father’s favorite one. Now,talk.”
“After you killed the other three,” he begins, glaring at me. I smile widely. “No one would take the job. We had to get creative.”
“Creative?”
The Reaper stalks over to him, ripping the blade from his shoulder. Blood sprays us both, but we don’t look away from his anguished face. “You hired someone from Bruno?”
“Not Bruno,” he coughs. Those dull eyes glare up at me, and it’s the first time I’ve seen fight reflected there. Gone is the mousey fucker who hides behind the Board’s rules; this is the man who survived in a criminal organization.
I’m almost happy to see it. It’ll be more fun to break him.
“Who?”
Murray shrugs, panting. His pale face is ashen, and blood drips to the floor. We don’t have long before he drops.
But I’m going to enjoy this.
Slipping my knife from my thigh, I step back to the far wall. Killian knows what I’m doing, sliding away. Without warning, I throw the knife, and it stabs with sharp precision into Murray’s thigh.
Blood immediately falls, soaking his dirty jeans. The shout is fuckingamazing.
“What the fuck!”
Another knife slips from my fingers, impaling his knee. A nasty hit, the pop sounds like a broken walnut. Slamming his opposite leg into the ground repeatedly, he swears until his face turns blue.
Another knife leaves my hand. This one is in his foot.
“Stop,” he pleads. “Stop.”
