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“Do you know who the fuck I am?” Brian barks for the millionth time as I secure the last lock, chaining him to the wall. I want to cut out his larynx so he’ll finally shut the fuck up. “Your boss was paid handsomely to let us kill and fuck whoever we caught,” he continues to yammer on. Ignoring him, I secure the last lock, tugging the metal link, ensuring there’s no chance of escape unless I let him out. “ You’re a dead man when I get free from this. I’m going to chop your balls off and make you eat them.”
Stepping back, I tilt my head, studying Brian. I wonder if he’s realized he has no power in the situation. He chose the wrong side.
“This club will be ash, and you’ll be my bitch once Senator Baker hears of this,” he mutters, and I cross my arms, listening as Brian rambles on about the horrible fate that awaits me once he’s free.
Brian’s empty threats feed my need for revenge. He has no idea it’s me, and I relish that fact. Hidden behind the powder-white goal tender mask—a tribute to one of the all-time great monsters of Halloween night—I watch Brian squirm against his bindings. His gaze darts around the room until it connects with the wall to my left. “This isn’t how this is supposed to work,” he stutters. His irises double in size as he fights harder to break free from the metal cuffs holding him in place.
Leaning my head back, I inhale the scent of his fear. “You’re finally paying attention,” I snort, lowering my gaze to meet his eyes—confident the voice modulator hides my identity. The veins in his neck bulge, straining against his pale skin to the point I swear I can see the thudding of his pulse triple from my spot in front of him.
I’m not sure if it’s the wall of terror, as I call it, filled with an almost endless supply of toys and tools meant to elicit the screams of their victims, or it’s my voice that terrifies him.
“Who the fuck are you?” he bellows, throwing some base into his tone, but it does nothing to mask the tremble of his limbs or the hitch in his breath.
Ignoring his question, I turn and stride toward the wall.
“Don’t you hear me talking to you, asshole?”
My brow arches beneath the mask, almost impressed by Brian’s bravado. Though I’m quite sure it’ll be replaced with trepidation soon enough.
I spot my weapon of choice before I come to a complete stop. Reaching up, I grab the Pear of Anguish from its glass enclosure on the fifth row of cherry-wood shelves. My eyes light as I peer down at the deceptively innocent device that will produce the desired effect—immense pain. The pewter contraption feels cold in my palm. Its pear shape is undoubtedly the reason for its name. Personally, I would’ve gone with Petals of Pain instead because it resembles a flower in bloom once cranked open. There’s something poetic about something of perceived beauty being used to garner screams. Pain is beautiful.
As I turn to leave, something glints in the lights in the room, capturing my attention. A slow smile crests my face. An onyx-handled titanium machete sits across two hooks. The nearly two-foot blade is one Jason himself would be in awe of. It’s almost as if fate wants me to have it.
Who am I to deny fate?
Lifting the machete from its spot, I study the blade, appreciating the bladesmithing before heading toward a terrified Brain. “Wh-wh-what are you going to do with those?” he croaks, widening his eyes in terror.
Placing the machete on the table, I retort, “Don’t worry. You’ll find out soon enough.”
Brain glares. His nostrils flare, eating away at some of his fear. “Enough of this bullshit. I want out. Red,” he shouts, and I cackle.
“There are no safe words here. This isn’t a BDSM experience. I’m not your Dom—you don’t get to tap out, ever,” I seethe, closing the distance between us. Brian freezes, making nostrils flare.
Yes, you stupid shit, feed me all your fear.
Standing at his right side, I pull Lizzie from the brown leather holster secured around the waist of my dark blue jumpsuit.“You’re fucking done when I say you are,” I snap, slicing along his ribcage. “And before this is over, you won’t know if living is worth it.”
A scream rips from Brian’s mouth as I dig into his side, burrowing a hole big enough for the device. “P-please,” he begs. “I don’t know who you are or who paid you to double-cross the Senator, but I know he’ll triple it for my safe return.”
My hand stills. “Are you really this stupid? “Let me guess, you also thought you were brought here for all your good deeds?”
Gritting his teeth, he snarls, “You’re dead.”
“Do you seriously have no idea who could’ve orchestrated this? I thought you were the brains behind it all—big man on top,” I spit.
Another shriek of agony fills the room, and I almost wish this was the aphrodisiac it used to be. “Those fucking heirs and they’re dumb sl—,” Brian gasps, unable to finish his sentence as I slam the pear-shaped device into his side.
“Didn’t your daddy ever teach you to know when you’re outgunned so you don’t say stupid shit,” I tsk. I’m eager to remove the mask so he can see who holds his existence in their hand, but I still need answers. Ones I know Brian would sooner go to an early grave than confess.
“Matthew will quadruple whatever they’re paying you,” he groans once the air returns to his lungs.
“Will he? Let’s test your theory, shall we,” I taunt, digging my knife deeper until I hit bone. I bop my head to the beat of his screams as I pull out my phone and dial.
“What do you want? I’m busy hunting. Unless you’re calling to confirm you’ve dealt with that shit-stain weasel, Porter, I don’t want to—” The line goes dead.
Brian gawps, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water before he furrows his brows, narrowing his gaze on me. Determination sets back in. “That wasn’t him. You’re lying! He wouldn’t abandon me after everything I’ve done for them. What game are you playing?” he confidently states, and he’s right to be. While that was the Senator’s voice, it wasn’t him speaking, but he doesn’t need to know any of that.
Rolling my eyes, I sneer, “Enough wasting time with your frivolous pleas. Senator Baker can’t save you.” I crank the handle, twisting until I feel resistance. “Why did the Senator really want to come tonight?”
