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“Don’t be nervous,” I say, rubbing my fingertips up and down her thigh, smirking under this mask when her cheeks flush.
“I’m not.” She tugs on her bottom lip, making me want to be the one to do it.
We pull up to a residential block on the outskirts of New York City. Nothing but darkness and silence.
“Where are we?” she asks, getting out of the car while I do the same, coming to stand beside her.
Her hand reaches for mine, and she holds it tightly, twining our fingers. My chest cinches, and I can’t even explain what it feels like to have her take my hand this time, to hold it like I’m hers and she is mine.
Is this what normal relationships are like?
But as I say that to myself, a laugh cuts through. Because I’m pretty sure normal couples don’t go killing together.
“What’s so funny?” she asks.
“Nothing. Come on, let’s go inside.”
I pull her with me, and she matches my steps as we enter the back gate, nearing the door.
“Whose house is this?” she whispers, clasping my hand tighter.
“A man who does awful things.” I stop and claspher face with both palms. “I told you we’d hunt together. We’d kill together. Do you still want that?”
Her eyes expand. “Yes. More than anything.”
“Then let’s go hunting, little wolf.”
The door is open, and I let her in first before following her. The man inside is already tied to a chair, gagged so no one hears his screams.
When she finds him there, her eyes jump between us. “What has he done?”
“Well, Ivan here has been a very bad man. Haven’t you, Ivan?” I kneel to pick up a stake, like the kind you use to stab a piece of meat.
I trace it across his bare, hairy chest, chuckling when he jumps in his seat as I roll it down to his balls.
“He’s been hurting children. Little girls and boys. He got out on a technicality. His lawyer has been paid top dollar to see him out of prison. Most kids don’t want to testify. Too scared. But there was one. She was nine, and she spoke against him, told the court how he hurt her. But the judge’s hands were tied. His lawyer claimed there was something wrong with the chain of custody for a crucial piece of evidence, then told the court the child was lying because Ivan used to date her mom before the accusation and the girl wanted to get rid of him. But see, I know she wasn’t lying. Was she, Ivan?”
He screams through the gag as Kayla reaches down for a torch gun, flipping it on and creeping it closer to his eye.
“You vile piece of shit!” she hollers, her body vibrating with rage.
It’s like she’s back with her kidnappers, back in the hell she’s endured. Seeing her this angry, it should bring me some level of happiness to know we are the same. But it doesn’t. I hate that sheknows what it’s like to live with a past that won’t ever escape you. I want more for her.
Yet this is all we have.
She lines the flames against his eye, and his wrenching screams rain through the night. It’s beautiful to see her work, and I can’t help the smile it brings out in me. Her gaze, it’s beastly as she watches him, her body trembling with chaos born from her scars.
The torch goes dead as my hand glides up her spine, fingers raking through her hair.
“You’re beautiful, Kayla. He’s yours. You get to play with him however you want. Do your worst.”
I hand her the stake in my grasp and settle on the chair across from him, allowing me the perfect view to watch.
She gives me a long look, her face upturning with fury before she’s on him, the stake penetrating him through the side of his stomach, the torch now at his feet. She lets herself go, roaring with her rage while she mutilates him, piece by piece.
The blood drips to the floor, creating a pattern like artwork. Her art.
Somehow, the bastard still breathes, and if I cared, I’d feel bad for him. But I’m glad he is, glad he gets to suffer like he made those children suffer.
