Page 26 of Always Watching
“I thought you weren’t going to come.” Dad gives me a knowing look, and I’m not sure if I want to flip him off or ask him a dozen questions. Maybe he isn’t quite as fucked up as I am, and maybe he’s more into killing people for profit than pleasure, but he still bleeds the same psychopath blood I do. Once upon a time, he’d been in a relationship.
Once upon a time, he’d been in love with my mother. I didn’t remember her very well though—but I have vague memories of her smiling at him, kissing him. Loving him back.
I could ask him for advice—I could ask him how he balanced who he was with how kind she’d been. Instead, I flick my gaze to the knife block on his kitchen counter and sigh. “Where is he?”
“You’re not using my new knife set. That’s forcooking, North.”
My fingers twitch, the temptation to reach over to the block and pull out the small, sharp blade meant to fillet almost too much to resist. I only manage because Dad steps between me and the counter with a brow arched.
“What has you in a mood?” He says it like it’s a question, but his expression tells me he probably already knows exactly what.
“Nothing. I just need to let some extra energy out on the asshole I left you to babysit. Now… where is he?”
Dad stares at me for another second before shrugging a shoulder. He knows me well enough to know that I’m not going to talk about something if I don’t want to. “I thought about leaving him in the trunk, but I was afraid he’d make too much noise if you ended up not coming tonight. I dragged him into the basement. I’m, ah, sorry if something’s broken. When I say dragged, I mean I took him to the top of the stairs and kicked him down.”
I didn’t tell him much about who the man was, or why I was so insistent that I needed to secure himimmediately, but I told him enough that he knew it was someone who’d hurt Ranen. Someone who would probably keep hurting him if he had a chance. Even though he knew it wasn’t the guy who’d put him in the hospital, apparently the answer was enough to get a bit of special treatment from Atlas Sinclair.
My dad was an amazing man.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Maybe Icantalk to him about my problems later… because I’m beginning to think he might already have realized exactly why I was having them.
The basement is dark when I open the door, but I can hear the sound of pained whimpers intermingling with the grunts of a man desperately fighting to free himself. I’m not worried. I tied him up myself, and I’m pretty sure Dad hadn’t bothered to untie him before unceremoniously dumping him down the stairs.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” My voice comes out in a lethal sing-song, the tone deeper than usual. I can feel the zinging sensation slowly starting to build up, a bubble somewhere beneath my skin that sends excited little thrills through my entire body.Thisis what’s been missing lately from my kills. There are so few things in the world that make me feel like this, that make me feel like my nerves are alive and my blood is singing.
Killing does that for me.
And killing this asshole seems to have found an extra special place somewhere behind my ribs, because I feel almost lightheaded with excitement. I could take my time—I could keep him here for days and Dad wouldn’t mind—but…
No.
I probably wouldn’t have that kind of self-control.
I am polite enough to close the basement door behind me as I make my way down.
I step over the asshole at the bottom of the stairs like he’s a piece of garbage in my way, though I do glance at his leg and see that yes, it is broken. It makes a smile spread across my face, and that smile only grows when I make sure to kick the injured limb on my way back just so I can listen to him scream behind his gag. It’s already wet with a disgusting mixture of saliva and vomit, and I’m not careful when I slide the blade I picked up from the wall through the fabric and cut it free.
He’s instantly begging, gasping, promising me anything and everything if I’ll just let him go. I have to wonder if some part of him knows it isn’t going to work out that way, or if he’s seriously so arrogant he believes he can talk his way out of his fate.
“Do you really think I would have bothered bringing you here if I was going to let you go?” I kneel down. Sometimes I like to play with the people I take. It’s satisfying, seeing hope build behind their eyes just so I can dash it away.
This isn’t one of those situations. I want this asshole to know from the get-go that he’s fucked. I want him to know he never stood a chance from the second he typed that fucking disgusting message and decided to hitsendso Ranen had to see it.
I want him to know he did this to himself, and there’s no way out for him.
Not now.
Not ever.
Not foranyonewho hurts Ranen.
The last thought strikes me hard somewhere in the center of my chest, penetrating the bubbly, light feeling that pours through me. It’s something thicker, something solid and real that wraps roots around my ribs and starts to grow. It’s more than obsession—it’s almost like I’m possessed.
Possessed by my need for Ranen and the memory of his lips pressed against mine. Fuck, thoselips. I’d nearly lost myself to that kiss. Iwantto lose myself to him, and I’m done resisting.
I don’t want to fight it. If those emotions are taking root in my chest, if they want to grow… I’ll water them with the blood of anyone who hurts him and happily watch the petals turn to crimson when the flower blooms.
