Page 154 of Saved By My Buyers

“Thanks,” I say, shoving the knife into his chest, yanking down to slice through his dress shirt.

“You can’t complain about something you’re responsible for,” Bee says as Gareth screams, as if to an errant child. Pursing her lips, she stabs into his shoulder, grinning evilly as his hand drops into the snow in mid-motion.

Following her lead, I stab the other, tearing his tendons so he can’t grab for us.

“Ahh! Stop, what do you want from me?” Gareth screams, making me smirk.

Now that’s more like it.

“How is your head, baby? This asshole kept pulling it,” I coo, pulling out the coat so she can kneel on it. She may as well be comfortable.

“I swear, he pulled out some of my hair,” she says, pouting. I’m aware our emotions aren’t quite in line with what’s happening, but it feels as if I’m floating slightly out of body. Maybe it’s the concussions we probably have, or the blunt force trauma, but I feel really fucking odd.

There’s blood, vomit, and unmentionable fluid on Bee’s face and the front of her dress, but she’s never looked more beautiful to me.

Neither one of us is shivering, warmed by the promise of our revenge. I want to live my life in peace.

I think of every single instance when he’s hurt Bee or myself, and I slam the knife into Gareth again. Bee follows my lead, choosing a different body part, to stab him in, listening to him scream.

He tries in the beginning to throw us off, but quickly tires as the blood loss begins to affect him. While I might not have severed his vertebrae correctly, I definitely did some damage. Over and over I stab, losing myself to emotion, hatred, and the soothing red substance leaking from Gareth’s body, until Bee is clinging to me as she cries for the both of us.

The anger and madness of the past rides me hard as I focus on seeing how many times I can get the man underneath my knife to scream out for mercy. A part of me is saddened when he doesn’t ask for it, not once.

He screams just the same though, and that has to be enough.

“Dahlia!” Bee screams, squeezing me harder, so I can’t raise my arms without hurting her. I’ve been moving down Gareth’s body as I stab, and his pelvis is a mutilated mess. Blood and tissue are all that’s left of a body part that hurt me so much.

He stole my innocence, tried to steal my soul, and that’s when I realize I’m sobbing. Gasping, heaving cries escape me, as I glare at Gareth’s ruined cock.

“I hate him so much,” I scream.

Jack’s arms wrap around both of us, pulling us close as he ignores the gore on our bodies and hair, his lips pressed tightly against the shell of my ear.

“Look, baby girl. He’s gone,” he rasps. “Gareth is gone, only meat, blood, and bones are left. He can’t hurt you anymore, Dolly.”

Chest heaving, I drop the knife with numb fingers, turning to wrap my arms around his neck. I know I’m getting blood and other things on his skin, but Jack hugs me against his body.

“We need to get them inside, Jack,” Greg says behind me, squatting next to me. He has blankets in his arms, his eyes taking in the carnage in front of him. “You two did really well. We’ll make sure he’s never found.”

“My mom,” I yelp, turning around. “Her body is buried in his backyard. Gareth told us he killed her.”

Greg blows out a breath, the cold air fogging up in front of him. “We’ll find her as soon as the ground isn’t frozen, Dahlia,” he says. “We need to get you both to the hospital to make sure you keep all your fingers and toes.”

Greg wraps Bee and I in blankets, and Jack looks torn because he can’t carry us both.

“Take Bee,” I say, as she says the same about me. I roll my eyes, shivering, and Greg barks out a laugh, moving over to scoop Bee up into his arms.

“March,” he says, and Jack picks me up and we begin walking. “You two didn’t even hesitate, not that I expected it. Gareth deserved every blow. Don’t hold on to any of it, all the trauma, everything he did? It’s gone, because you killed the man who did it. Mourn your mom, Dahlia, but know you’re not responsible for what happened.”

Nodding, I know he’s right, and I lay my head on Jack’s shoulder.

“Where is everyone?” I ask, feeling tired. “Did anyone get the bitch out of the shed with the dead bodies?”

Jack looks sharply at Greg, and I know I sound loopy. My words are also slurring.

“Arina,” Bee says softly. “Adamson shot Thomas in the shed, so he’s in there too. It’s been a busy night.”

I feel an inappropriate giggle, and I swallow it down. Busy is a fucking understatement.

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