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“Can I burn it?”
Raiden strolled toward the pres, joining Devil, snorting.
Manic grinned as he reached inside his cut and pulled out a lighter. We turned to Devil, our expressions hopeful.
“Jesus. Fuck. No,” he growled. “I’m getting a fuckin’ headache.”
Devil straightened his cut, smoothing his black t-shirt beneath the leather as if the material had wrinkled. It looked as fresh as if he had just plucked it from the dryer. His O.C.D. tendencies leaked through in stressful situations.
Manic shuffled his feet, heading toward the door.
I didn’t move. Devil knew why.
“Fine,” he finally relented, giving me a stern warning. “No fire.”
As our pres disappeared up the stairs, Raiden and Manic followed. Alone, I could finally extract my pound of flesh.
“Wh-what do you want?” Homer stuttered, quaking so much that his body flopped like a fish dangled off a fishing hook.
“Blood,” I whispered. “Flesh. Payment for your debt.”
“Please,” he begged, crying again as big, fat tears rolled down his puffed cheeks and his triple chins waggled.
Not saying a word, I cut through the rope above his head, sending his flabby body to the ground. I knew he wouldn’t be able to stand after being trussed up like a pig for so long and straddled his immense stomach, chuckling as his belly wobbled.
“I’ll be back,” I announced, “and I’ll let you know if Amelia enjoyed me fucking her before I slit her throat.”
“P-please. Don’t.”
I slapped his gut. “Stop blubbering. You’re a grown fucking man.”
His chin quivered. Homer didn’t seem to be fighting back the tears.
“Tell you what, I’m gonna let you choose which piece of flesh I get to take.”
Snot puffed out of his nostrils as he continued to cry.
“An ear. A finger. Or your cock. Choose.”
He let out a scream as I brought the knife toward his face. “My-my finger!”
Shit. This was the least fun of them all.
I was growing soft.
Tugging his left hand toward the ground, I placed the palm flat, splaying his fingers wide. Firmly against the surface, I applied pressure to the pinky, shoving it down with all my weight. The finger gave way beneath the blade’s sharp edge, slicing off without a struggle. I didn’t even have to saw through the bone.
Fuck. I loved this knife.
Homer’s screams faded into the background as I watched the blood spurting from the severed digit, spreading in a crimson puddle that snared my attention. The pretty scarlet color nearly glistened in the light. Two of my fingers slid through the fluid, lifting to write a message on his forehead.
C-O-W-A-R-D.
Leaning toward him, laughing as his eyes rolled into his head, I patted the side of his face. “See you soon, Homer.”
Chapter 1
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Amelia reminded me, dropping her chin onto her fist as she gave me one of her enigmatic smiles, the kind that hinted she couldn’t quite figure out the mystery I presented as she stared into my eyes. “You can still change your mind.”
