Page 233 of The Devil's Fire

“We owe you nothing.” The spokesman spat out.

“I disagree.” I replied calmly. “Just one question, and I will leave.”

Whispers circulated among them in their native tongue. I checked the watch on my wrist before slamming my fist down on the table, cutting their hushed conversations short.

“I’m not a patient man, so tell me, which one of you fuckers hung the pictures on the wall.” I asked.

“Whoever you’re looking for is not here. None of us here threatened to kill them.”

“Oh?” I raised a brow. “I never mentioned anything about killing. I was referring to the lovely portraits, but it seems you’re all too eager to jump to conclusions.” I grinned. The spokesman, uneasy, glanced nervously at his leader.

“It seems that you know an awful lot about what I’m talking about.” My tone remained eerily calm, accentuating the sinister tension in the air.

I leaned in, the shadows dancing on my face as I fixed my eyes on the spokesman.

“You thought you could lay hands on what’s mine and get away with it?” I sneered, relishing the fear that began to etch itself across their faces. “Now, the reckoning has arrived.”

I grabbed the spokesman by the shirt in a swift motion, hauling him across the table as I rose to my feet. Gripping his face tightly, he winced in pain as I leaned in.

“You can’t fathom how much I've daydreamed about tearing your head off.” I hissed. “You’ll wish you were never born.”

He shook his head vigorously, his entire body trembling with fear. A commotion ensued, with his leader and comrade attempting to reach him, shouting at me.

“Restrain them. I want those two alive.” I commanded my men as they bagged their heads and dragged them out.

“I was just following orders!” The spokesman stammered out.

“Who gave the order?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know anything!”

I tightened my grip on his face, my anger intensifying.

“You're telling me you did all this without knowing who gave the order? You’re either a pathetic pawn or a lying piece of shit.” I sneered.

His eyes darted around, desperation in his gaze.

“Give me a name, or I promise your suffering will make you beg for death.” I growled.

“I swear, I don't know.” He pleaded, his voice shaking.

“Wrong answer.” My lips curled into a sinister smile, unveiling a darkness I had been waiting to unleash.

I flipped him around in a headlock as I grabbed my knife, holding it to his throat and cut the skin. I couldn’t hear his pleas, consumed by my own thirst for his blood. I could have slit his throat and gone on with my day.

But no, I wanted his head.

I dug my fingers into the slit of the cut I made, blood pouring like a waterfall down his body as he thrashed in an attempt to flee. There was no escaping me once I had caught my prey.

I pushed in deeper and deeper, clawing my way inside his throat, leaving a gaping hole open and ripped out his trachea. I discarded it like a piece of trash when he fell to the floor, and I gripped his head with both hands. I pressed down a foot on his chest and snapped his head from side to side.

The sickening sound of bones snapping filled the room, a nauseating symphony that sent tingles down my spine. The heavy and disturbing crunch mirrored the sight of a body contorting and breaking in ways it was never meant to.

My lips curled into a sinister smile, warping the familiar contours of my face into a mask of deranged delight as I watched his skin tear from his body.

My eyes sparkled with unhinged excitement, reflecting the pleasure that had seized me as his head finally separated from his neck.

I grabbed his head by his hair, showcasing it to everyone. The gruesome sight made a few vomit. I examined the head in my hands, tossing it back and forth with a sardonic smile playing on my lips.

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