Page 96 of Locke

Locke

It was very unusual for someone to go against his demands. Locke had to hand it to this fucker—he had balls of steel. His “generous” offer set his skin alight with rage. This cheeky little fuck. Moronic little cunt, did he really think Locke’s little lioness would agree?

He wasn’t always ruthless, and it didn’t have to end in such a gory fucking way. In fact, the demand was simple. Fire the girl, send her on her way. Locke was going to pick her up the second she exited that office. He was going to start the hunt.

But then this happened.

This—

He couldn’t even fucking compute as he stared over this weird as fuck kill. It was up there as possibly the most what the fuck kills he had ever committed. The guy was dressed like Blinky the fucking clown. He pressed a hand to his skull and massaged his temples, feeling unusually disturbed, and that was a fucking feat to achieve.

“Why?” Kali whispered just then.

Why?

Did she really ask him that?

He looked at her, his body tightening with the urge to stab this fucker a dozen or so times just to get the bloodthirst out of his system. He had laid his entire weight over her like he was a shoe stomping an ant.

“He was hurting you,” he simply said.

When he saw him pressed over what was his—the rainbow fucking costume rubbing against soft skin Blinky did not fucking deserve to touch—Locke had to put him in the ground. No two ways about it.

He took advantage of a girl instead of genuinely trying to help her.

How many times had he gotten away with it?

“You hurt me,” Kali retorted, but her voice was weak, and she wasn’t looking at him. It surprised Locke how much that bothered him. He would have liked to look into her eyes and see the loathing staring back at him.

“How did you even know?” she asked next.

“I listened to the entire thing,” he answered, watching her reaction closely.

She went quiet for a moment, but then her head swivelled to the desk where her phone still sat, a look of understanding passing over her.

When he had slipped the phone into her grocery bag, he made sure it was bugged. He wanted to hear everything she was saying. He wanted to know where she was going. It was a window into her life, into her head, and even then, it wasn’t enough. He wanted to know everything. He couldn’t handle the not knowing.

“What is wrong with you?” she questioned next, finally looking at him with disgust—not loathing. The look haunted him a little. “Why are you listening to everything I’m doing?”

“Because you’ve infected me,” he answered honestly. “I need to know.”

“Need?”

“If I could split your head wide open to listen to your thoughts, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

That was just the icing on top of the truth. The real truth would horrify her. And they weren’t ready for that yet.

It surprised Locke how calm she was. She looked at her dead boss intermittently, her brows pinching together. She looked like she didn’t know what to feel.

“He was a creepy, sick fuck,” he said next as she inched further away from the blood. “Picked up whores for sport and hurt them.” Now she looked at him, and Locke knew that look. “I don’t pick up whores.” He paused, stopping myself from continuing, tensing his jaw now at the unwelcome memories.

A wary look passed over her. “You’ve destroyed my life.”

“What follows destruction, Kali?” he mused. “The chance to rebuild.”

“I’m not in the fucking mood for wisdom, especially coming from you,” she seethed, and there was that fire he hungered for. The anger that called to him. Obsession smiled in response to it. “Did you steal my rent?” she questioned next.

“Of course,” he answered.

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