Page 22 of Black Heart

Madman looks increasingly nauseated. “Why are you eating through that thing? So fucking creepy, man.”

Snap.Chew. Swallow.

He breathes deeply, bracing himself. “Okay, fine. She has some sort of evidence against the Morellis, I guess. I don’t know, man, they don’t tell me everything!”

“How many have you killed, Madman?”

He blinks, sweat now coating his lashes. “Maybe … ten?”

“And you take any contract given out, don’t you? Women, girls, boys, kids, the elderly. Am I right?”

His blinks turn rapid.

“The truth, Madman,” I prod him kindly.

He answers, his voice thick with unease. “Whatever pays the most.”

I incline my head.

Then I drive a fist into his abdomen. His gasp fills the circular room, bouncing off the walls.

“Go to hell,” he wheezes, defiance sparking in his gaze. It’s a fleeting spark, however, and one I fully intend to extinguish.

I snatch the man by his hair. This man—young, likely in his early twenties, with a lean build and short, unkempt hair. Too arrogant for any sort of disguise.

His eyes dart around nervously. I push him backward until his chair balances on two legs. “Do you truly believe I haven’t already been there?”

I lean in close until our noses almost touch, his flesh, mine cold metal. My fingers dig into his scalp, drawing blood as I angle him farther. “You won’t be leaving this lighthouse alive, but whether you die quickly or suffer for hours is entirely up to you.”

“WAIT!” he screams, surrender finally overtaking the bravado now that his throat is exposed. “Look, Scythe, I’m just a hired gun, like you. I’m not given a ton of info on my hits. But I can tell you something … Morelli is not directly calling the shots here. It’s someone else, someone close to him.”

I still. Not even the breeze coming through the upper windows dares to flick my hair. “Someone close to Morelli? Who?”

“I don’t know, I swear. I just heard whispers. Morelli’s got a right-hand man, someone who’s been with him for years. They say he’s the real brains, the one who’s been keeping Morelli untouchable.”

I release my hold, sending Madman crashing onto four legs. His head sags, and he groans with relief.

Processing this new information, I ask, “And you think this man is behind Layla’s targeting?”

“Yeah. It’s all about whatever she’s got that they want. It’s big, whatever it is.”

I face him. “You’ve done me a favor, Madman. It’s only fair I return it.”

“Thank—wait, what the fuck?”

He watches me pull out not a knife or a gun, but the remaining bag of licorice, dangling it between my fingers. “Hungry?”

I smile a slow, sadistic smile behind the darkness of my mask as I cut a single strand from the rope of licorice, stretch it taut, and slice it cleanly.

Madman’s eyes widen as I make a second cut, then a third, until I have a handful of bright red licorice.

His breath catches as I raise the bundle, bringing the candy closer to his face.

“What is this? W-what are you doing?”

“Whatever you do,” I croon in a low voice, “don’t swallow until I say you can.”

I feed him the licorice, piece by piece, as his eyes slowly close in relief. Madman’s fear made him hungry.

---