It was… too easy.
In careful silence, we collected knives and kitchen tools, stuffing them into our pockets, before making our way through the house to find our victim. We had our own weapons in the car, but it was always better to use some from the scene. At least, that’s what Theo told me as he tested the weight of a large chef’s knife he’d pulled dirty from the sink.
Theo walked ahead of me, moving through the house like he’d already been there, so at ease with the stalking, with hunting a man down. The layout was simple, but the place was filthy. Cluttered and gross, with old food and musty towels. I wrinkled my nose.
“Holy shit,” I muttered, stepping over a moldy pizza box. “Are we sure he’s even alive in here?” My voice was only just above a whisper, but still, Theo frowned.
“I’ll go check.” He nodded his head up the stairs, and I watched him, in his element, as he stealthed his way from step to step, not making a single damn sound. Impressive. Sexy. I licked my lips to chase the flavor of him still sitting there. My belly squeezed.
Deciding to follow him, I was a few steps behind, halfway down the stairs when he reached the landing. He disappeared around the corner. Then. A grunt. Then. A shout. A scuffle. Panicked footsteps.
Damon appeared at the top of the stairs, panic frantic in his eyes as he bounded down them, like he didn’t even see me in his desperation to get away. He shoved past me, and Theo yelled out my name. I grasped my knife tight as I fell, skidding down a few steps, my chin scuffing on the carpet, my ankle bending at an awkward angle with a sharp stab.
But Damon wasn’t getting away. Not a chance. I swung out the knife as I tumbled, cutting right through the back of his ankle with a hideous tearing sound.
As the demon man screamed and plunged down the final bottom steps, I glanced up at Theo, who was at the top of the stairs, disheveled but whole. I sat up, pushed my hair back from my face, and observed the monster my brother could be. Knife in hand, a dark look across his handsome features, jaw tense as he looked from me to our victim. He dipped his chin and dropped his shoulders, beginning his descent to me.
“Good girl.” He gave me a wicked grin. And I returned it. The fun was only just starting.
Eleven
Theo
Damonlookedpathetictiedto his own dirty kitchen table, laid out like a disgusting buffet, naked and prone, spread out with his arms above his head and his legs stretched wide, exposing every foul inch of him. My face was a permanent scowl, and I wished I had a fucking medical mask to put some sort of barrier between us.
It was a despicable sight, especially when the waste of space prick pissed himself, his flaccid cock resting against his thigh as he released a steady stream of dark yellow urine all over his leg and the table beneath him. Pathetic asshole. The stench almost made me retch.
But he only glared at us, a gag of his dirty underwear shoved deep into his mouth to stop him from speaking. Skid marks and all.
“Pitiful,” Violet said, coming closer to me, wincing. “He’s one of the men closest to Rafael, and he does this already?”
The moment she’d sliced his foot on the stairs and blood began to pour, she’d come alive, a fresh, new version of herself that shone with energy. Delicious, beautiful energy. Father had made a mistake in making me the enforcer, in not allowing his daughters to learn the trade, learn the viciousness of it. Violet was a natural. I knew something was boiling under her skin, that this darkness was trying to fight its way out while she suppressed it, and it was a fucking pleasure to see it free, to seeherfree.
Tucked up, forced to be a meek bride, coming alive with a knife in her hand and a bloodlust in her heart. I was going to make her feel fucking good later. I’d sooner imagine my tongue buried in her pussy rather than look at this twat on the table. But needs must.
“What do you want to start with?” I asked her, studying her face as she contemplated. While she was a natural, she was new. I’d done this too many times to count.
She scrunched up her nose so cute. “He watched. He watched it all from the side, smug and uncaring. He just watched me die, fade away. I think the first thing we should remove are his eyes.”
Damon screamed through the fabric then, pleading and gagging as together, Violet and I walked towards him, on either side of the table so his killers surrounded him. I think he’d finally realized we were serious, that this wasn’t a joke, that she was strong.
“He’s being a bit too noisy, too,” Violet said. “Maybe we should get rid of his tongue while we’re at it.” She looked at him, eyes on his. “He didn’t tell them to stop. Not once.” She ran her knife along his cheek, over his chin, pressed the tip up a nostril, twisting it until a trickle of blood burst free. Damon winced and moaned, but stayed still. He couldn’t move far anyway, even if he wanted to.
Violet was teetering on the edge of insanity, and I didn’t know whether I wanted to fuck her or cuddle her. Or lock her away somewhere, with only me. Only me, good food, a warm bed and nothing else… only our madness to twist us up together, immovable.
Suddenly, she lifted her knife and slammed it down into Damon’s left eye socket, the squelching, popping noise sickening for just a beat before Damon’s voice covered it up. Damon screamed, muffled and harrowed, but Violet did it again; she stabbed. She stabbed and stabbed until his eye was nothing more than mush and mess down his cheek, red and flesh and veins sticking to her blade, hanging like strings as she raised it higher.
Breathing heavily, she moved onto the next, climbing onto the table and straddling him for better position. I watched, didn’t need to do anything but observe and fight the urge to fuck her here and now.
Maybe Damon could watch that. A show before his death. But no. She was mine. No one else’s. Never again.
This time, she was more careful, pressing the tip of the knife into his eye socket, cutting and twirling it around like she was trying to loosen a cake from its tin. She bit her lip, and my cock throbbed again.
“I think this would be easier with a spoon,” she muttered, then reached in with her free hand, plucking the man’s eye right from his face. She made a disgusted face and yelped, chucking it across the room. The eyeball bounced off the wall with a wet thwack before dropping to the floor. “Hideous.” She looked at me, a little green around the gills, but still steely. “Now he can’t see.”
“Now he can’t see,” I repeated, grinning at her.
For the next thirty minutes, I leaned against the wall and enjoyed her working. My arms crossed, one leg kicked up, I had the best show. While she carved up one of her monsters, I imagined everything I might do to her when she was done.
