Page 123 of Slaughter

I throw the knife, hitting him in his thigh. His eyes snap open, and he screams out again. “I ans … wered,” he wails.

I ignore him, and like last time, I walk up to him and yank it out, enjoying the stream of blood that runs down his leg. “Keep going.”

He licks his chapped lips. “I don’t … know. Victor told her some bullshit, and she screamed fuck you. Then he hurt her.”

I walk up to him, grab his hair, and yank his head back. I get right in his face, and yell, “What exactly did he do to her?”

“He shoved her head into the wall and then slammed her onto the concrete floor…”

I release his head, and it falls forward while I start to pace. I’ve never felt so much anger. Not when she left. Not when she was taken. Not even when I found her. My muscles are tight, and all I want to do is rip his fucking head off with my bare hands. “Go on.” I know there’s more.

“He was undoing his pants when his cell rang ... He pulled it out of his pocket and cussed. Then he kicked her in the stomach as he stood and walked out, ordering me to close the door and lock it. He left ten minutes later, after his phone call, and then you all showed up.” Drool runs down his chin and mixes with the blood on the floor. “I overheard him tell someone on the phone the day before that they were going to be moving her soon.”

“To where?”

“He never said.”

My jaw clenches. “You know nothing of value.”

His head sags, and he coughs. I’m losing him. He’s dying. I’ve played with him too much. I take the knife and toss it up in the air before catching it. The blood now covers the handle as well as the blade, making it slippery.

I hear the door open behind me, but I keep my focus on Lance. He lifts his head, looking up, and I throw the knife for the last time.

It lands right in his throat. His body jerks, and he makes a gurgling sound as blood pours from his wound down his neck, chest, and stomach before hitting the floor. His eyes close, and his head falls forward, his chin resting on top of the blade, and I watch the life drain out of him like the sorry piece of shit he is.

Turning around, I see Kayn standing with my brother. “What?” I snap, removing the towel from my back pocket and wiping off my hands.

Kayn enters. “Did you find them?” I ask.

“No, sir. Sorry.”

“Then why the fuck are you here?” I growl.

“I have something you need to see.”

We make our way back up to my study, and my brother takes a seat on the couch. Kayn stands by the door. I pour a glass of scotch and hand it to my brother, then make myself one.

“What is it?”

“We found these at your brother’s house.” He gestures to a box sitting on my desk that I now notice is upright.

I walk over and open it up, finding some keys, a wallet, pictures, and a USB drive. “What is on it?” I ask.

Kayn clears his throat before answering. “Home videos.”

My brother’s eyes widen, and my jaw sharpens. Our brother Vaughn was always recording shit. “Did you watch it?” Who knows what the fuck is on it.

Kayn nods. “I started but did not finish, sir.”

Which tells me this USB drive holds something very bad. I tighten my hand around it, and then plug it in, unable to stop myself.

The video starts to play, and it’s me and her sitting on the couch at my father’s house. She has to be sixteen, me eighteen. She has on my T-shirt and sweatpants. Her face free of makeup, and she has a huge smile on her face while she cuddles up next to my side.

“What are you two doing?” Vaughn asks, filming us.

“Get the hell out of here,” I growl before tossing a throw pillow at him. “We wanna be alone.”

He does as I say, turning around, leaving the living room and entering the hallway. But then he stops and turns back around, continuing to film us. He’s out of sight, and we’re not paying attention.

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