Page 174 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

I glare at him. “Princess?”

Nat sighs, glancing over at me and Oscar. “He’s not willing to talk.”

“There has to be something,” I mutter, crossing my arms. I walk up to him and smack him in the head because I’m getting pissed now. Every minute I spend time with this asshole is minutes wasted not spending time with my asshole.

I pause, staring at him. Beating him, threatening his friends and family, and even turning my remarkable charm up didn’t work for this guy. What does an egotistical man such as him value the most?

I glance down between his legs and squint.

The man clears his throat, “Are you tired of the foreplay, baby? Ready to hop on my dick?”

I punch him again.

Fucking revolting. This man calls me baby, and now I want to puke all over his face and drain my ears out from hearing him call me that. God, I miss Rurik.

He laughs, and I want to take his dick and squeeze it.

So I do.

His laughter turns to screams, and this time, I’m the one laughing when my hands are covered in his dick blood. I’m so fucking glad I did my nails yesterday. Now, they’re nicely manicured and long, perfect for digging through his puny dick.

“You fucking bitch!” He yells. Finally, dropping that stupid smug mask. “I’m going to kill you all!”

“That’s not possible,” Oscar says quietly.

I glance over at him and grin sheepishly. Poor man, looking a bit pale from seeing another man’s dick getting ripped apart. Nat makes a sympathetic sound, rubbing his back.

“Yeah,” I turn back to the guy. “Because we’ll kill you first. But not until you tell us the name and route of the train that’s carrying those women and children.”

The guy finally snaps, crying his eyes out, when I started poking his balls with the tip of my knife. “I c-can’t! He’ll kill m-me!”

“Dude,” I groan, “Why the fuck are you worried about whoever your boss is when we’re the one who’s going to kill you anyway. You’re dead either way. At least this way, you’ll die knowing that you saved a bunch of innocent women and children from sex trafficking.”

The guy looks about to pass out, so Nat slaps him. “Hey!”

“I’m in a shitty mood, my dude. But also, I’m feeling very generous. Tell us the name of the train and the route.” I sigh, “Then I’ll kill you so fast, you won’t even feel a thing.”

“Give us a name, too,” Oscar adds, looking less squeamish. “That way, we can stop their future plans.”

The guy gulps, looking between all three of us before his eyes begin to droop. I poke his ballsack again, and he jumps.

“C’mon, bud.” I say sweetly, “Be a good man and tell us, pretty please?”

He mumbles something, and I thought I heard him wrong for a second.

“Hey.” I poke him again. “Sorry, can you please repeat that?”

The man shakes his head, losing consciousness.

“Fuck,” Nat mutters, smacking his face repeatedly. “Hey. What’s the name?”

The man didn’t give us all the details we wanted because he was flirting with the line between death and living.

But he was able to mutter a single name.

A name I should have known was involved in the beginning.

“Philip Greene.”

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