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THEO
Asmall whimper rips from my victim’s throat as I tighten my grip on the pliers I’ve got around his little finger.
At this point, I’m amazed he’s still got any to play with.
His face is a pattern of cuts and bruises. His clothing is dirty and covered in both dried and fresh blood.
But the pain on his face settles something inside me that she woke up.
The second she accused me of using Sloane’s shit on her, my very loose grip on my sanity snapped and I either walked out, or she was the one who ended up screaming, her nails clawing at me as I fucked her so hard she’d never feel the same again.
But I couldn’t.
I shouldn’t have even let it get as far as I did.
The second I heard the shower running, I should have stayed where I was with my hands curled around the kitchen counter and my head bowed.
I shouldn’t have even brought her home.
It was a mistake. All of it.
And now I’m going to pay for it, because I want her.
More than ever.
And I can’t have her.
The pliers clatter against the concrete floor as I throw them across the room when his pathetic whimpers of pain no longer do it for me.
Instead, I pull my arm back and slam my fist into his already broken nose.
Blood sprays, covering both of us, but I don’t stop.
Not until the cunt passes out from a particularly hard blow to his temple.
“I think you can probably stop now,” a familiar, equally angry voice comes from behind me as I stand with my chest heaving, staring down at the pathetic excuse for a man.
I always knew he was a controlling cunt. But the truth… That’s far worse than I ever could have imagined.
I tried to ignore my need for this.
After getting Stella to make sure Emmie was okay, I hit the gym. Hard.
But I should have known it would only chase my demons away for so long. The second I stepped back inside my flat, all I could smell was her. All I could see was her.
I put myself through the most agonising shower, wishing that she was there with me, pulled on some fresh clothes and left as fast as I could.
And, I found myself back down here. Deep in Dad’s torture chamber, staring at a man who very nearly ripped through the people I care about.
“Yeah, I know,” I mutter, cracking my knuckles as I continue staring at his slumped form. “Sorry,” I say, finally turning around to look at my spectator. “Did I steal your thunder?”
Toby shrugs, glancing back at the man who claimed to be his father all these years, only to be hurting everyone he loves at the same time.
“Nah, as long as he’s getting punished, I’m good.”
Bloodlust shines bright in his eyes, making me wonder if he’s telling the truth.
“He said anything else?”
