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We watch in sick fascination as the Baron sucks and pulls on her breasts, oblivious to the impending danger, too caught up in his own twisted fantasy to notice death has come for him.
He groans.
And the red mist descends once more.
It’s all I can do not to steal the knife from Five’s hand and throw it at the disgusting child abuser myself. I want to ruin him. I want to make him pay for touching her. For hurting her.
These emotions are foreign to me, alien. I don’t fucking want them.
“Master?” Five whispers, she’s still within the shadows too, waiting for my instruction.
“Do it!” I hiss.
Five’s knife is impaled in the Baron’s shoulder before I can even blink. He falls forwards into Nothing from the impact, the sound he makes as he pushes off of her is like a stuck pig, which seems fitting because it won’t be long before he’s squealing like one.
Five steps into the dim light cast by the thousands of candles lit around the room, her fingers feathering over another knife strapped to her chest. The fucking stops and the last lingering note from Twelve’s lips hangs in the air like a portent.
Everyone in the room stills.
Every single one of them knows what’s about to happen.
The Baron is about to die.
Little do we know, it won’t just be him who’ll be weeping blood tonight.
