Page 19 of Ruthless Beasts

Errands was such a loose word. But it was all part of the job I have and the life I keep.

“I’m going to tell him,” she sputtered.

I laughed. “Again, little girl, it’s none of my business. But my opinion? Y’all aren’t telling each other shit since you’re making no move to communicate with each other. It’s like walking on broken glass when you two are in a room together. Painful and sharp.”

“I can’t be kicked out yet.” I saw tears forming, and that was my cue to leave.

“Baby girl, you’re not going anywhere.”

I left it there, with the knowledge that I knew the secrets she kept, and went into work. The lies she told were a different project for a different day.

Three hours later, blood oozed through my fingers, and my cock was rock hard. It pulsed in sync with the fucker’s veins as his life flowed onto the cement floor. He was found along the gate late last night, snooping around, looking for an entrance point. That was reason enough to see him dead.

But the second, the one that made the death I vowed to issue more painful, was that he worked for Bellamy’s father. A low-level dealer looking to rise in the ranks. “You thought you could fucking touch her?”

“No,” he gasped, as I twisted the blade that protruded from his thigh. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“No?” I laughed, taking a droplet full of acid, and slowly dropping it into a wound. “That tattoo on your chest tells me differently.”

He screamed, cursed, and gagged from the pain, and it only caused me more enjoyment. Our men would never cave to such torture, but this guy sounded like a little girl, all sniffles and whines, tears and sobs. It was an embarrassment for me to witness, and for him to display.

“Shit. Shut the fuck up already. It was just a little drop. You’re not going to die.” Yet. But voicing that last word would only make the pansy cry harder.

I put down the acid and grabbed the back of a wooden chair. I turned it as I dragged it toward the guy. Stopping in front of him, I sat on the chair backwards, staring into his bloodied face, contacting the one eye that wasn’t fully swollen shut. I tilted my head as he leaned as far back as he could, desperate to get away from me.

“Hey, so do you happen to know what he has planned?” I perched my chin on my fist that was resting on the back of the chair. “I’m really interested.”

His head shook as he struggled against his binds. Red tinged drool rolled down his chin. Reaching forward, I took some of his shirt and wiped his chin. “Let me get that for you.”

He whimpered, and I fought not to burst into laughter because I was having too much fun. Making grown ass men cry was the main reason I was in this business. The other? The feel of blood dripping between my fingers made my cock hard to a degree no woman had.

I let time hold in suspense as I looked over my tray of tools, trying to decide which was the best option. How much pain could someone take before they died? I liked to push boundaries. There were no mercy kills. I would draw it out to the very last seconds until their heart gave out with their eyes lockedon me. Some might call me ruthless, but the beast inside me strives with each drop of blood spilled.

I picked up my favorite tool and grinned. “Do you know what these are?” He wouldn’t. He clearly wasn’t skilled in the art of death like I was. “I call her Lizzy. She’s a Liston bone cutter and her work, fucking impeccable. Want to see?”

“I don’t have anything to tell you, man.” His chest heaved; his fear was so thick I could taste it.

I leaned over the chair, grabbed his hand that was tied to his chair arm rest. He tried to pull away, but the rope had no give. “Please, don’t. No, no, no.”

The scream filled the room as the tip of his finger rolled by my feet. I kicked it, disgusted it almost touched me. Fuck, if Lady was here right now, she’d be chowing down on a finger. I was thankful she stayed with Bellamy. “What about now?”

“Shit.” He sobbed, his head lolling to the side as he tried to look away. “He just wanted to know if there was a way in. How many guards you have. Your schedule.”

“And how much did you report back?” I snapped the bone forceps a few times, taunting him.

“Nothing.”

I reached over, moving up past the knuckle of the same finger, and snipped again. Ignoring the pants and howls of pain, I grabbed his thumb, crunching the bone until the finger gave under the pressure and its bloody pulp dropped to the ground. I reached for the third finger and he stopped me.

“Please. I called.”

“You think I fucking didn’t know that? I have your fucking phone and all the call logs. What I want to know is what you fucking said.” I shouted into his face, watching him flinch. I went for the third finger again, showing him I was fucking done playing.

“I told him everything I saw.” He sniffed. “Please.”

“What was everything?” I leaned back.

“The guards I counted. That you all leave her alone each day. That I hadn’t seen signs of her.”

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