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So tonight, I’ll rid Seattle of the little pests that have been congregating so I can focus back on the bigger things. Making Adeline mine and dismantling the pedophile rings.
I crack my neck, storm over to the front door, and bang my fist into the wood as hard as I can. I pour all my anger into it, not giving a fuck if I crack the wood beneath my fist. Just like the night that small dick asshole was here. Running out of the house naked with only one sock on, cursing Addie’s name.
I was relieved to see Addie kicked him out herself. It was the only reason I didn’t kill him that night. But it doesn’t mean I didn’t cut out his tongue for the names he called her.
She still isn’t aware of that since I ran him out of town and forbade him from contacting her again.
I duck back in the shadows beyond the porch.
I know Archie’s type. He’ll come storming out, ever the savior for the damsel in distress. Ready to take on the big bad wolf like he’s not the old granny about to get eaten.
Really, he’s just a rabid fox posing as a wolf. His bite hurts, but nothing compared to that of a real predator.
Right on cue, Archie whips the door open, his hands wrapped around a gun.
“Come on out, fucker. I know you’re out there.”
Come get me, Archie.
He hesitates on the doorstep, sensing the danger residing in the shadows.
But after a few moments, he develops a vagina and charges out the door and down the porch steps. His head turns, his eyes widening as he catches a glimpse of my face with a single red rose in my mouth, the stem caught between my teeth.
I bare my teeth, a feral grin that would chill even the devil. Before he can react, I dart out, grab his arm and twist him around. My hand slaps over his mouth as I pull his back to my front.
Twirling my knife, I stab him twice in the stomach. Both precise areas that won’t cut through vital organs. He grunts beneath my hand, the shock rendering him mostly silent.
Before the situation catches up to him and he starts shouting, I push him off of me and deliver one sharp punch to the back of the head.
Done in a matter of ten seconds, not a single peep out of his mouth.
My arm snaps out and I catch him by the back of his suit jacket before he can face-plant the cold, muddy ground. Out cold and bleeding profusely.
I need to staunch the wounds before he loses too much blood.
But first, I slide the rose from my mouth, and dip the petals in the crimson spilling from his wounds.
Can’t have my little mouse thinking there aren’t consequences for letting another man touch what’s mine. She’ll find out soon enough that I don’t make idle threats.
I rest his body against the porch for a second while I walk up and throw the rose at her doorstep. I’m too pissed to do much else.
And then I grab his body and start the brief trek through the woods where my Mustang awaits. By the time the cops get here, it’ll be too late.
A blood trail will lead them to tire tracks, and they might be able to narrow down the make and model based on the tread impressions, but the evidence will run cold after that. It will all be destroyed soon enough.
The cops won’t know which direction to look. And Archie’s family will assume their enemies caught up to him.
And they wouldn’t be wrong. They just won’t be able to guess who until I’m standing in front of them with a knife in their necks.
“Let me the fuck go, you fucking prick. You think I’m someone to mess with? Do you have any fucking idea who I am and who my family is?”
His mouth is going to be stapled shut in point two seconds if he keeps running it, that I do know. I relay this to him, and he answers with a hyena laugh.
I turn and clock the fucker in the mouth, all the while keeping my Mustang straight.
Colorful words follow, but they’re no brighter than the blood pouring out with them.
Pretty boy isn’t so pretty now.
