Page 17 of The Ripper

She liked peonies and dahlias, never roses unless they were white. She believed them to be cliché and called them classic apology flowers.

~ Son of a bitch.

After entering her address and specifying the time I wanted the food delivered, I sent off the order. Then texted the license plate to Hannibal, and waited for his reply as I watched how she smiled awkwardly at the man before he leaned down and kissed her.

~ Let’s dissect him.

My fingernails dug into my palm as she seemed to melt into him for a second, as if she was clinging to him for a drop of energy, but when he tried to deepen the kiss and his hand grabbed her ass, she slowly pulled back and moved his palm to her waist.

~ Good girl.

Well, maybe a little chop at the wrists wouldn’t be so bad after all? He had no use for those hands anyway, other than that of touching what wasn’t his to touch.

~ What’s stopping you?

Arella didn’t like public displays of affection, she preferred to keep what little personal life she had private, and the guy did not even seem to notice how uncomfortable she was.

He pulled her closer to him, grinning like a cat in heat.

How stupid did he have to be not to notice she had been crying? She’d probably lost a patient, and the dumb fuck didn’t even ask about her day before groping her as if she were a piece of meat.

When he handed her the flowers, she tried to fake a smile and didn’t even smell them. He seemed insistent on something, and I rolled my window further down to hear them.

“… I’ll make you forget whatever is bothering you,” was the end of his sentence.

I highly doubted that.

He looked like a man who didn’t know what to do with a woman even if he had an instruction manual in front of him. A two-pump-chump.

~ Bullet, knife, flame? Choose one, or all of them. I vote for all of them.

“I’m tired, Justin, let it go,” she pleaded, shaking her head as she unlocked her car.

The guy aggressively grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

“How long do you think this good girl charade is going to work on me, huh?” he asked as his eyes darkened.

I bit my fist, fighting myself not to shoot him on the spot.

“You’re hurting me,” she said, trying to pull out of his grip.

~ Can we kill him?

I was just about to get out of the car and kill the motherfucker in front of her when she lifted her leg and kicked him in the balls. The force of the impact caused him to let go of her hand and she started hitting him across the face with the bouquet, repeatedly, until there were no more petals left.

I instantly got hard as I watched her make a fool out of the fucker, and a rare smile formed on my lips, one that only she could bring to life.

“We’re over,” she yelled at him.

~ Do we kill him?

After throwing what was left of the bouquet in his face, she got into her car and pulled out of the parking space, the engine coughing as she floored the gas.

I watched with depraved satisfaction as fucking Justin wiped his face to remove the drops of blood falling out of the thorn scratches, then shook off the petals stuck to his clothes and got into his SUV.

As I was following him, my burner phone rang, and I answered it.

“What’s up, Ripper?” Hannibal asked as he popped his gum.

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