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I take the knife from my holster and press the sharp tip against the closest locker and step up onto the bench that lines the row of lockers. Putting one foot in front of the other, I move along the bench, the tip of my knife dragging along the metal, the sound chilling and cold. Knox backs up toward the showers, his hands pressing against the wall behind him to feel his way through the locker room.
King and Grayson begin to stalk him, their own low terrifying laughs echoing deep into the room and making me thankful that it’s not me on the receiving end of this because I sure as fuck would have shit my pants by now.
The scraping of my knife gets louder, and as Knox takes another step back, the shower behind him turns on, the water shooting out on full pressure. Knox’s head whips to the showers, straining to see through the darkness, but not a moment later, a second shower turns on, and then a third and fourth. One by one until all eight showers are on, their combined water pressure vibrating through the walls of the boys locker room.
Knox frets, hyperventilating with each quick and ragged pant as he makes a break for it and runs back through the locker room, realizing just how outmatched he is.
Grayson catches him by his arm and throws him right back where he was and I drop down from the bench, sticking my landing with a low thud in front of him. “Someone’s been a naughty boy,” I taunt, keeping my voice low as I move forward and continue to stalk him with the boys, forcing him back toward the showers until I feel the spray of the water bouncing up and hitting my legs.
“Please,” Knox begs, his voice breaking as sobs overtake him. “I’ll do anything. Please.”
Cruz and Carver step into his back, each of them gripping his arms and yanking him back into the heavy spray of the water. He screams, absolutely terrified and making my darkened little heart shine with joy. “Begging is not going to help you now,” Cruz tells him, his tone filled with a sick happiness.
Four spotlights shine through the showers, lighting up Knox like a performer on stage and creating the perfect canvas.
“I swear,” Knox sobs as the water streams over his face, plastering his hair to his unshaven jaw, the light finally allowing us to see just how deep the fear runs. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll do anything you want.”
Cruz looks up at me, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “I believe you have a score to settle too?”
I grin wide, letting the love pour out of me as I look back at Cruz. I wasn’t expecting such a nice surprise tonight. I thought I was just along for the ride and to show my support of Cruz as he finally gets even. I settled my score months ago when I beat the living shit out of him for offering me up to his uncle, Sam Delacourt. I was kidnapped and trafficked, but the guys saved me, other girls though, they weren’t so lucky. Yet here Cruz is, offering me to settle that score all over again, and I don’t think I have the heart to say no.
I step up in front of Knox, my gaze shifting over his body as I try to work out what exactly I should do to settle my score. “Winter, no,” Knox begs. “Please. Don’t do this. I don’t want to die.”
Carver rips his arm straight back and Knox cries out. “You don’t get to talk to her.”
Knox swallows hard and I step in a little closer, a sick grin stretching across my lips. “Don’t worry,” I murmur. “This isn’t going to hurt … much.”
I spin my knife between my fingers and reach up toward Knox’s wrist and Grayson hovers in close behind me. “Careful,” he warns. “You don’t want to get the artery because he’ll bleed out and we want this to last all night long.”
I study Knox’s wrists. “Where then?”
Grayson leans around me and uses his fingernail to trace exactly where I should be slicing. “Right here,” he tells me. “Not too deep, though. Just make him bleed.”
I nod and concentrate on what I’m doing, feeling like some kind of medical student taking notes from her superior, and once I’ve gone over it a few times in my head, I slash out with my knife, letting the sharp tip slice through Knox’s skin like butter.
Knox cries out and blood pours from the wound, splashing to the ground and mixing with the water. “Wow,” I say, watching the swirls of crimson dance around the drain. “Look at all that evidence just disappearing right down the drain.”
Carver and Cruz hold him still, and as I move toward his other wrist, I notice the hungry way that the guys watch me, and fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on.
