Page 28 of Cruel Crown

Bas was already cocking his gun.

“Did you think we wouldn’t know?”

I locked the doors and drove away as Bastian said that. I started to hum as they fought in the back, Bastian forcing Yoro to inhale.

Tonight was going to be a good night.

***

“When you told Damian you could kill freeballing, I didn’t think you were serious?” Bas teased from the chair he was seated on.

I cut him with a glare as I finished removing my shirt. I stood in my jeans and boots, with an assortment of tools in a nearby chair at my disposal. My dick was still hard, my heart racing and blood pumping.

Some kills marked you, while others set you free, and this one was a bit of both. I grabbed bottled water, took a sip, and then I poured the rest on Yorovich’s face. He was on a chair, his feet and hands bound. I crouched down so I could be at eye level with him and grinned at him when he looked at me.

“Fuck, you have my dick so hard right now,” I told him. Blood drained from his face. I patted his cheek. “Before I send you to hell, you and I are going to have a bit of fun.”

“Who are you?” he bit back, sounding strong.

“I love it when they play hard to get,” I said loud enough for Bastian to hear me.

What I didn’t do was answer Yoro right away. Instead, I circled him slowly and enjoyed the feel of his eyes on me, wondering when I’d strike—wondering if I’d aim to kill or just maim. I was straddling the line between man and monster, and I’d never felt so alive. Doing what I did, I knew which cuts would make you bleed right away, and which ones would hurt but keep you alive long enough to cause damage.

“Are you playing duck, duck, goose or some shit? You’re giving me a headache.”

I raised my middle finger and flicked off Bastian.

When Yoro’s eyes went to Bas, that’s when I struck. I had twin blades in my hands, and I crisscrossed them across his chest. He hissed, but I didn’t intend for them to be painful.

I kept circling Yoro each time, making cuts all over his arms, his legs, back, and chest. His white shirt was now red, his silver trousers maroon. I took a moment to appreciate my handiwork.

“You want to know who I am?”

Yoro glared at me, not speaking because I was sure he knew he wasn’t making it out of here alive, but he wanted to die with dignity. Cute. I had every intention of breaking him before I ended him. His face was still free of any cuts—I was saving those for last.

Throwing the twin blades on the floor, I picked up a spray bottle I had brought, along with a small scalpel.

Yoro spat on my shoes. “Let me guess. My worst nightmare?”

“Oooh, he’s getting cute with you,” Bas’s voice mocked from behind me.

“Nah, I’m not that cliché,” I told Yoro. “I’m the man who stole your woman under your roof.”

I smirked at him when he glared at me, trying to get out of the restraints I put on him.

“Not even a week after she had been in your bed and she was hopping on my dick.”

Check. Fucking. Mate.

He looked at me with hate, and I took a step toward him. I bent at eye level with him, so my spit was practically on his face.

“You forced her, and yet, she never submitted.” I taunted him. “All the times I had her, she came willingly.”

My hand struck, gripping his chin so his mouth would part open, and I cut upward toward his ear. Yoro screamed then. Blood poured down to my hand, and I smeared it on his face, and then I repeated the same process to the other side of his face. When I was done, I took a step back, looking at the Glasgow smile.

I heard Bastian whistle, impressed, but he stayed quiet. I threw the scalpel to the side too and used the sprayer I had put aside earlier. Yoro screamed as I sprayed his face and his body with bleach.

The smell of blood was no longer dominant, and it saddened me because I hated how bleach smelled, but hearing Yoro’s screams, that made it a bit better.

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