Page 97 of Sin Like the Devil

He holds the blade poised between his fingers. The curved tip almost resembles the bristles of my paintbrush, I think distantly. But I’m not the manipulator behind it this time. Pain is going to be inflicted on the canvas of my body instead.

“Hold her. I need to get close.”

Owen places his hand on my mouth again then clamps the other one on my shoulder to stop me from struggling. I shout behind his gag as Rick leans closer, inspecting the intricate ribbons of inked vines wrapped around my forearm.

“Damn. These are good.” He runs a finger over the painstakingly realistic tattoo. “Almost a shame to ruin it.”

When the tip of the blade presses into my elbow crease, I feel a piece of me shatter. Something internal. Irreversible. A part of me I never thought I’d have to lose. Confirming that nothing stays safe forever.

The blade slices in deep, precise slashes. I can feel letters being carved into my skin. Each scrawled letter is a white-hot poker on my skin. When he curves the blade to cut each swoop and twist, my frantic cries die out.

“Fucking hell,” Owen mutters in disgust. “That’s sick.”

“Shut up,” Rick snaps. “She deserves this!”

“I dunno, dude. This is fucked up.”

Frowning hard in concentration, Rick curses when his hand slips. My throat is too raw to wail at the sudden stabbing sensation of the switchblade sliding in too deep. He blanches when he realises his mistake.

Owen leans down to look. “Is it meant to bleed that much?”

“I fucking slipped.”

“I didn’t sign up for this shit!”

“She isn’t gonna die, asshole! Shut up already.”

Warmth trickles down my arm. I can feel a pool gathering. A twisted part of me wants to drag this out for as long as possible—without medical attention soon, I’ll bleed out. That’s freedom, right?

No.

I didn’t come this far just to die at the hands of some power-tripping son of a bitch. If nothing else, the horror show I’ve created here must amount to more than that.

I won’t die on the library floor. Even if this brings the wrath of Harrowdean’s management raining down on me, at least I can accept that fate and go down swinging. Letting Rick bleed me out will be far more pathetic.

Mumbling weakly behind Owen’s hand, it takes him a moment to notice. When he does, he grumbles for Rick’s attention and releases my mouth once more.

“Yes?” Rick cocks a brow.

“K-Kingsman.”

“What?”

“The disused dorms… B-Behind the storage buildings. Go to the basement.”

“Carlos is there?”

“If… he’s alive.”

Triumphant, he nods at Owen. “Go get the others.”

I’m quickly released. Relief is a misty cloud sinking into my pores, but it’s short-lived. With Raine beginning to stir, Rick pinches his chin, considering me for a moment longer.

“You should’ve started with that.”

Returning his blade to my flesh, he resumes carving, this time careless and hurried. There must be a final reservoir of adrenaline left inside me because I manage a choked screech as he completes his work.

The sound of my agony rouses Raine from his semi-awake daze. Lifting a hand to his head, he groans in pain. Ant doesn’t bother knocking him out again. They already got what they wanted.

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