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“Scar,” Charles cries as his hands begin to roam my body. All I can do is groan as I struggle to get a full breath into my lungs. Fuck. That never gets easier.
Another groan escapes as I roll off him and attempt to call out for D, but only incoherent mumbles come out. I give Charles a half-hearted thumbs up. Thank fuck for Kevlar. That shot was intended for right between his eyes. There would have been no surviving that. Based on how he looks right now, survival is already questionable.
“Declan,” I moan, finally getting enough air to push his name out. He rushes over, falling to our sides. His hands try to find where my damage is but I push him away and force him to focus on Charles. The blood is all his. My vest took the full impact of the bullet. I just need a few moments to catch my breath.
I stare at the ceiling and focus on my breathing as Declan gets to work stabilizing Charles. Oh, I am so going to kick his ass for this later.
I turn my head and watch as Ryder and Kade gleefully restrain Donahue as he fights and snarls at them. A madman unrecognizable as the man who once gave me daisies until the night he stole my innocence.
“It’s a stab wound to the abdomen. He’s going to need a blood transfusion at the very least, but it’s hard to determine if he’ll need a laparotomy at this point. I don’t think he hit anything vital, and he’s stable for now, but there may be internal bleeding. We can’t rule it out without further testing.”
Joe’s voice fills the line. “Ambulance is already ready and waiting.”
Charles grunts as Declan puts more pressure against his wound. “I think I’d rather stay for the show, if you don’t mind.”
A smile breaks out on my face and he grins up at me. He’s okay enough to be cracking jokes. “You should really go,” I encourage, but some of my fear dissipates at Declan’s silence. If he isn’t immediately protesting, it can’t be too bad.
“I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” he argues.
Fair enough. “Me too,” I agree, climbing back to my feet. My chest still aches with every movement, but the relief of seeing Charles’ smile is enough to make me ignore it.
I wait for D to say one way or another and even his lips twitch as Charles gives him his best puppy dog eyes. He sighs. “I’ll keep an eye on him. First sign of hypertension…”
“You got it,” Charles cuts him off, getting a droll look in response.
Now for the fun to begin.
* * *
“I thoughtabout hunting you down, one by one.” I admit as I get started on my work. “Using your blood to make a promise to the next.” Blood drips from Dean Bernard’s cheek as I drag the tip of my knife along his cheek, enjoying the way he shakes in his chair. It was kind of thoughtful of Donahue to have them all ready for me. He probably doesn’t see it the same way.
“Each murder more and more gruesome and violent, carving my name into your flesh as a message to not only the world, but the others. Each one knowing what was coming for you and praying that I wouldn’t find you. Put you in the very position I found myself in when I was no more than a child. A child being hunted by monsters for daring to survive their first attack.”
Tears already spring to his eyes and we’ve only just begun. He’s far too weak to handle half of what I did and survive. Good thing he won’t be. Surviving, that is.
“Not fond of being on this end of the blade?” I question gleefully, digging the blade in deeper until his tears escape and mix with his blood. Every ounce of rage and fear I felt for Charles while stuck outside is being poured into this revenge. Every nightmare, every memory that has come crashing into me. More and more pieces floating back to me as I stare at the three men before me. I lean down and lick up his cheek, the salty tang of his tears hitting my tongue. “I like you bleeding and whimpering,” I whisper in his ear. “Wasn’t that what you said to me that night, Dean?” I lean back and press my boot against his groin and begin to slowly apply pressure. “Oh no, silly me,” I laugh. “That was Romano, wasn’t it?”
He whimpers behind his gag and I laugh all the harder. Of course, Donahue just had them tied up on the floor. It was Kade and Ryder that corrected that, got them all ready for the long day ahead of us.
“Are you wondering why I didn’t do it that way?” I tease, pulling my knife away from him and moving on to Schroder. “I really thought about it. It was a hard decision to make if I’m honest with you.” I climb into his lap, straddling him so I can get right in his face. There are sounds of disgruntlement from behind me, but I ignore them. Of course the guys would have a problem with me being this close to him. They just don’t understand how thrilling it is for me to be in this position. Over him. Dominating him. Violating his personal space when it’s so clear he would rather be anywhere but here. Under me. Under my blade.
My knife trails over the fragile skin of his face, but I don’t draw blood. Not yet. He trembles under me all the same. Fear and humiliation battle in his eyes. It’s like my cocaine. A heady sensation rushing through me, emboldening me, driving me. So much sweeter than just regular old adrenaline.
“But we started this together, in an office, just like this one. It’s only fair to end it the same way. Don’t you think?”
I lean back and tighten my fingers around my knife, suddenly bringing it down in an arc and slamming it into the top of his shoulder. He squeals and the sound fills the room even with the gag in place. “You probably remember more than I do,” I say casually, twisting the knife in place. “How would you say we’re doing? There’s blood, tears, pain, humiliation. What’s missing?” I tap my finger against my mouth as I pretend to think. “Hmm, what does it say that even at your very worst, you’re still forgettable?”
I leave the knife in place and climb out of his lap, moving on to my final target. The worst of the bunch. The ringleader of my demise. If it hadn’t been that night, it would have only been a matter of time before he attempted to claim his little daisy. It’s too bad he only realized too late that I was always a rose, and I always had fucking thorns. Dripping poison now. Ready to annihilate him. Erase his very existence. How could I be happy with a simple death?
He’s the only one of the three not sweating, not crying, not shaking. He’s twisted, depraved, revolting, but at least he has a spine. For now. I happen to be an expert in removing those. The obsession is there, though. Brewing in those ice-blue eyes that have plagued my dreams for so long. He still craves for me, my pain, my blood, my tears. It must be agonizing to be so damn close to what he’s yearned for for so long and not be able to just reach out and touch it.
I twirl a new blade between my fingers as I stand over him. He isn’t so scary sitting there, bound and gagged. At my mercy. I cock my head as I study him. Once a long time ago, I thought Charles took after his father. I can no longer see it.
I move behind him and get my first reaction out of him. A shiver of fear. Oh, how delightful. He doesn’t like what he can’t see. I can work with that. I throw my arms over his shoulders, my chest brushing the back of his head. My blade trails down his chest, cutting through the fabric of his button down as I go. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long,” I whisper in his ear, pressing a kiss just above it when I finish. He tenses and shudders, and we get to see the first bit of his fight against me as he struggles against his restraints. He fought against Kade and Ry, enough that it made it fun for my two sweet psychos as they restrained him for me.
Something about their fight must have broken through his delusion though. The madman has faded back into the shrewd businessman. Cold, calculating, capable of hiding his lethal fixation. I enjoy his fight. I hope he struggles more. I hope we see that madman break through again as the last of his sanity crumbles to ashes at my feet.
“Are you finally putting the pieces together? Realize just who has hunted you down? I was worried I was going to have throw on my old cheer uniform for you depraved fucks to understand. After so long searching for me, you didn’t even recognize me when I was right in front of your face.” I can’t help but taunt them. Donahue shakes his head in denial, making me laugh. “You thinking about those cute little photos?” I ask. I grip his head in my hands and force him to look at where Declan has Charles propped up on pillows as he monitors him and tends to his wound. “You were wrong,” I whisper in his ear. “Charles has always been mine. Just like this plan was mine. Those photos were mine, but not exactly of me.” I stretch my arms in front of his face so he can see the tattoos. “As you can see. This whole thing was all mine. Your death will be mine too,” I finish with a promise. The pain isn’t enough. I want their humiliation, to degrade them, to make them lose every ounce of themselves before I finally take their lives. “Do you see it now? Or is your eyesight going in your old age?” I tap his cheek condescendingly. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the face you were so obsessed with seeing again will be the last one you ever see. Doesn’t that sound like fun?” I dig in the tip of the knife and draw first blood. This angle just isn’t working for me.
