Page 121 of Fallen Rook

It was for the best, anyway, that each of us returned to their corner of the underworld before someone found out.

“Anyway, so he completely ignored me when we bumped into each other at the restaurant.” I pouted at my victim—was it Steve or Sergei? It was definitely something with an S. “What do you think that means?”

“Means you’re a fucking fa—” he gurgled, shivering so hard beneath me that he knocked into a pair of scissors and a syringe. He never completed the word.

Good.

I was just about done removing most of the thermal barrier that was his skin. He barely bled any, thanks to my sophisticated and highly trained methods of flaying. This meant he would likely enjoy six or seven hours on this planet before dying of hypothermia, infection, or the odd parasite that’d soon take advantage of his skinless form. But did I get a thank you for that? No. I did not. I was really getting sick and tired of everyone around me taking my congeniality for granted.

“He could’ve texted back.” I ignored the barb. “I mean, that’s the bare minimum, right?”

The man beneath me tried to spit in my face. Unfortunately for him, he had no saliva left.

“K-kill me,” he stuttered, lips parched, arteries exposed and pulsating with his harsh, labored breaths.

I sighed, sitting back and ripping the first set of elastic gloves off. I typically wore three pairs, to keep things sterile. “Can I ask you a question?”

He released an indignant sound I interpreted as a yes.

“Why did you rape her? Gianna?”

He hadn’t just raped her. He’d beaten her up, too. She’d survived, but she was never going to be the same again.

“A-all…wooomen…are…whores,” he breathed out hoarsely.

“Know what?” I slapped my thigh, standing up. “I don’t think I’m going to kill you. I’m gonna let Mother Nature and Karma run their course, duet-style. Oh, and I’m going to go ahead and turn on this fluorescent light above you.” I snapped my fingers, reaching for the dangling electrical plug hanging from the ceiling. “It’ll keep you warm, but will also literally bake you alive. Think of yourself as a Thanksgiving turkey.”

Taking one last look at my artfully flayed victim, I gave him a wink, stopping at the doorway before exiting the basement. “Happy late Turkey Day, motherfucker.”

Before I got into my car and headed back to the city, I slid my phone out. I didn’t even have the chance to properly check it for messages before Luca’s name flashed across the screen.

Needy bastard.

“Yeah?” I pressed the phone to my ear.

“Bad news.”

“You seem to be full of it lately.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “What is it now?”

“Another wave of arrests. I’m short on staff. You’re on collection duty until further notice.”

“Luca, I’m already overworked and planning a goddamn wedding.”

“Katya does the heavy lifting. It’s not like you’re buried in catalogs and appointments all day.”

A frustrated growl tore through my throat.

Luca sighed. “Look, I know, and I’m sorry. Give me a couple weeks. I’ll figure it out.”

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know. The NYPD decided to close in on us. I’m hoping it’s because they haven’t reached their quarterly quota,” he speculated. “Either way, we’re down about two hundred men.”

“Jesus.”

“PD on payroll are looking into it right no—”

I hung up. Fuck this fucking day. Fuck it all the way to fucking hell. I glimpsed at my notifications.