Page 47 of King of the Cage

“You said you wouldn’t kill me, today,” Enrico panted, his eyes wild. He glanced around the dark, dingy room.

“I did, and I’m a man of my word.” I went to Enrico and placed my hatchet blade at his throat. “Now, drink up.”

He looked at me and then at the bottle.

“Is that…” he stuttered, fear coloring his every word.

“What do you think, Rico? I don’t know much about investment groups or circle jerk secret societies… but I do believe in an eye for an eye. Now, open wide.”

Declan gripped Enrico from behind and shoved his fingers into the corners of his mouth, forcing him to open up. He gagged, his tongue lolling helplessly. I poured the contents of the bottle down his throat.

Once it was done, I tossed the bottle away and stepped back. Enrico coughed and spluttered, his eyes panicked and wide.

“I wonder how long it takes to work?” Declan said with curiosity. He pulled a small notepad out of his pocket, and a stubby pencil.

“What are you doing?” I lit a cigarette.

“Taking notes for Doc,” Declan said, like that was a completely normal thing to be doing at this moment.

His bloodstained hand gripping the pencil struck me as the funniest shit, as the nicotine crashed into my overstressed system.

I threw my head back and laughed.

Then Declan only made it worse by fishing glasses out of his pocket and putting them on, completing the transformation into a tattooed, bloodstained star pupil.

I turned back to Enrico. We’d given him a hell of a dose, and it looked like it was already working.

“Hold your breath,” I instructed him harshly.

He complied. After a minute or so, his eyes bulged, and his face turned puce.

“It’s definitely working,” Declan said. “That was like five minutes from consumption to effect.” He scribbled away.

Clamping my cigarette between my teeth, I approached Enrico and cut his ties loose.

“Let’s see what this can really do.”

I took my hatchet and handed it to him. I was prepared to defend myself, in case he was faking.

“Cut your finger off,” I instructed him calmly and stepped back, watching with interest.

Enrico complied.

The thunk was loud, and it was the only sound produced. Enrico didn’t so much as gasp when the digit rolled to the floor.

I chuckled darkly. “Oh, Rico, we are going to have so much fun.”

Later,I washed the blood of the dead man from my skin. Enrico Sepriano was no longer of this Earth, and my da was going to be pissed about it, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. As soon as I’d known he was spiking people’s drinks with Z Juice, he’d been marked for death. I’d promised Quinn I’d stamp out the people associated with the drug that had nearly hurt her. I was nothing if not a vengeful fucker.

After the shower, I wrapped a towel around my hips and lit a cigarette, leaning over the old, chipped sink in the bathroom to stare in the mirror. My wet hair dripped down my shoulders, sending beads of water across my tattooed chest.

Each inked mark was a story. A success or failure, a disappointment. A tapestry of a life lived recklessly and fearlessly. It had been a long, long time since I’d felt like I had anything to lose. I had a gut feeling that that simple truth was about to change.

Giada Santori.

My wee selkie.

The woman my da wanted me to marry at all costs.

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