The bastard makes a wet, strangled sound as Bruno tears him apart, starting at his throat, moving to his shoulder, thenhis chest. Bruno rips away chunks of muscle and fat. He tears off what’s left of his face—his cheeks, lips, nose.
“This is satisfying to watch,” Matleon mutters. “But I like the monster in you better.”
“He should have stayed away from her,” I grit out.
They should have never made her a pawn.
“Stop,” I order when he’s dismantled most of him. But he doesn’t stop, as he isn’t satisfied yet.
“Bruno, stop,” I order harder, and this time he stops.
“Come back,” I order. He moves back, still watching the filth. His silver-and-gray fur is covered in blood.
I crouch and run a hand from his head down his back. “Well done.”
He licks his mouth, still not shifting his gaze from his target. I stroke my hand down his back one more time, settling him onto his haunches.
“Stay,” I order, and rise.
I walk to the thrashing, disfigured motherfucker and pull out the small box of flammable powder. I open the lid and sprinkle it over him. With his eyes torn out, he can’t see me. I want him to, but this works too.
I step back, pulling out a cigarette and lighter from my pocket. I press the cigarette between my lips, light it, and slip the lighter back.
Only one puff, or she’ll get mad. Rage pulses at the base of my skull. She won’t get mad because of this motherfucker in front of me. She won’t tell me smoking is bad for me. She won’t refuse to talk to me or stop me from touching her. Because this fucking bastard put her in a state where she doesn’t even know who I am.
I take two more puffs to cool the fire, but it doesn’t settle even a bit, and it won’t until I see it burning him instead of me.
I pull out the butt and toss it at him. Within a second, the fire catches, and his fading throaty cries start again, louder and more agonizing.
The fire soothes me. It always has. It calms the monster. We love watching it destroy.
“He’ll die in two minutes,” I tell Matleon, not taking my eyes off the burning Hunter.
“You should have told me earlier,” he complains, then steps away. Moments later, water starts sprinkling over us.
I keep my eyes locked on Hunter until the last flame dies. His thrashing has stopped. He’s unconscious, hopefully not dead.
I drag a hand through my wet hair and turn toward the door. Matleon and Bruno follow. Outside, Matleon orders a guard to take Hunter to the emergency room.
“That was a good show,” Matleon says, sounding content.
“I’m done with him. He’s all yours.”
“That’s if he’s still alive. It doesn’t matter much. Dad wanted to hang him upside down in the museum, with holes drilled into his body, and let him slowly bleed out and rot inside a glass chamber until he looks nicely disgusting. We can still do that.”
They have a museum on an island in the Pacific Ocean where they preserve the bodies of their enemies in frozen glass chambers, leaving them in their final moments of suffering, with their crimes written above them. There’s a reason people think twice before going against the King of the Underworld. Only idiots like Chris are foolish enough to try.
“If you want Chris for your museum, send someone for his body. If the animals haven’t eaten him whole, you might get lucky. I’ll send you the coordinates.”
He nods.
Chapter 42
Salvario
She looks at me again.Then she turns to Avira and murmurs something I can’t hear from the couch, since she’s on the bed. Today she won’t come near me and gets uncomfortable when I get close.
Avira murmurs something to her, then looks at me.
