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9
KASPIAN
When we get back home, we drive past our cabin, getting as close to the shed we have in the back as the trees will allow. We unload Waylen and Bryan and lay them across the workstations, if you will. When we settled in here, we bought two portable work benches to put in here. The aluminum material allows a quick and easy cleanup with a pressure washer.
The small, battery operated space heater in the corner keeps us from freezing while we’re inside. I make sure everything is set up in the shed while Quin runs back to the cabin for everything else we’ll need.
We have several LED lanterns placed around the room to give us enough light to see what we’re doing, but with both benches out, we’re very short on space. There’s a row of hooks along one side, holding a variety of tools and weapons. Nothing anybody would think twice about out here in the wilderness. With all the wild animals, everyone has some sort of protection.
I can’t believe I got things wrong. Quin wasn’t contemplating cheating on me. He was thinking about me the entire time. I admit my temper has a short fuse. I struggle with making rational decisions, but it really couldn’t have turned out better.
The shed door opens, letting in a blast of cold air before Quin closes it again.
“Anything you don’t want to burn, put in here,” he says, handing me a plastic bag.
I remove my jacket and boots but keep everything else on, and he does the same, going one step farther and taking off his hoodie, leaving him in a long sleeved shirt, jeans, and socks.
The plastic tarp on the floor makes noise as we move around, but it allows us to easily roll it up and toss it out once we’re done.
While the two men writhe under their restraints and grunt behind their gags, Quin steps up to me and rests his hand on my neck.
“I wanted this to be my Valentine’s gift to you. I’m sorry it’s early.”
My heart thumps in my chest, eyes widening with glee. “You were planning a Valentine’s Day surprise?”
He rolls his eyes. “We can celebrate early.”
I cup his face between my hands and kiss his lips. “I fucking love you, Quintin Black.”
He grabs my waist and gives me a diplomatic look. “Mmhmm.”
“Well, I feel something very strongly toward you right now,” I amend, not wanting him to be uncomfortable.
“Show me later,” he says, squeezing my ass before turning to Bryan.
From a shelf in the corner, he grabs his favorite weapon—the stiletto knife. Its double-edged blade is thin and sharp.
“You wanna go first?” he asks.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I shake my head. “I want to watch you.”
He walks to Bryan who’s been able to see us since we removed the burlap bag from his head, but hasn’t been able to make much noise due to the rag stuffed in his mouth with tape keeping it in place.
“Hey, Bryan,” he says, looking down at him. “You weren’t a part of my plan, but sometimes shit happens.” Quin turns and looks at me, his eyes shining with eagerness. “I can’t say I’m unhappy about it though. Kaspian gives me the best gifts.”
I smile like the Cheshire Cat, moving around to the other side of his table so I can watch his face as he works.
He takes his knife and cuts through the fabric of his sweater and shirt, splitting them down the middle without so much as nicking his body. Bryan cries and fights his restraints, but he doesn’t realize he’s giving Quin what he wants. He thrives on panic and fear. We both do. Just so we can watch it slowly drain away with the blood from their wounds.
Quin lets the tip of the knife dance around Bryan’s chest, watching it heave with frantic breaths. His fingers press against his side, counting the ribs. When he gets between the fourth and fifth rib, he slides his hand closer to the center, knowing exactly where the knife needs to go to penetrate the apex of the heart.
When he positions the blade, he stares at me, then with a quick and forceful thrust, the blade enters Bryan’s chest. His eyes drop to the wound, watching as the blood begins to pour out.
His eyes darken as the crimson color begins to stain Bryan’s pale skin. He jams the knife in deeper before releasing the long, skinny blade. Blood spurts out and Quin smears his fingers through the warm liquid, his eyes closing briefly as he inhales deeply through his nose.
Quin likes to begin his kills this way—a callback to his Heartstopper days. The Heartstopper was the name they gave him back in Washington. A serial killer who was never caught. But because of his signature, and just in case bodies are ever found, he does more to hide any connection to his past.
With the blade back in his hand, he goes to work, stabbing and cutting in random places on Bryan’s torso, painting both of them with that beautiful ruby red color. He’s breathing hard and sweating by the time he’s done. I blame myself for some of his pent up rage. I did wait a long time before finding him another victim, caught up in my own fairytale of us living happily ever after. Selfishness is a trait I have, but I’m trying to be better. For him and him only.
