Page 268 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

Crack.

“Well then.”

Crack.

Marcus screams in pain when the belt hits his face.

Crack.

“I’ll just whip you into shape until you remember.” I drawl, putting all my strength and bringing the belt down again.

Crack.

I pause to roll the tension off my shoulders, feeling the negative energy drain from me with each belt lash against Marcus’s skin.

Holy fuck, is this the type of high Briar’s been feeling when she kills those people?

Marcus tries to get up, and I let him. There’s shit blocking his way up the stairs, so he pivots and darts to the back toward the kitchen.

He trips over a lone moving box in his path, a cracking sound coming from his ankle, and screams in pain as he hits the floor.

I raise a brow, looking around and noticing all the shit that’s spread everywhere in his apartment are moving boxes.

“Going somewhere?” I ask.

Marcus ignores me as he grabs the closest object — a frying pan — and throws it at me.

I easily dodge it and laugh with disbelief. “Are you fucking serious?”

He ignores me, looking around.

I spot a kitchen knife on the counter and grin. How fucking poetic. It’s like the knife was placed there on purpose, knowing I was coming over.

Taking advantage of Marcus’s distraction, I throw myself at him. Though he's bigger, I'm stronger and leaner.

He tries to push me off, but I press my forearm on his chest and shoulders to pin him down while my elbow digs into his windpipe.

Marcus thrashes, his hands trying to pull my arm off of him. I dig my elbow in deeper, his eyes widening and turning red with desperation.

“What’s wrong, Marcus?” I ask with feigned concern.

I pull one of his hands and shove it down on the floor before stabbing it.

Marcus stiffens for a fleeting moment before unleashing a gut-wrenching scream of agony.

I close my eyes and visualize the negative energy flowing from my fingertips like a dark stream dissipating into the air.

Better. But I need more.

I open my eyes again and slice his wrist.

“This is payback for every ounce of pain you inflicted on Briar.”

I sigh, lifting my head at the sound of his screams that have become music to my ears. I wish Briar were here to hear it with me.

I slice a deep cut on his shoulders.

“This isn’t personal, sir.” I pause, allowing Marcus to catch his breath, which he greedily inhales. “Actually, never mind.”

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