Page 21 of The Devil's Secret

I reach down for the gun at my ankle, closing the knife and sticking both in my pocket as I get out, shutting off the lights in my car.

“You little asshole,” he jeers, tapping the bat in his hand. “You really thought you could follow me, and I wouldn’t know?” He chuckles. “You young cats think you’re some tough shit these days, huh?”

I don’t say a word as I move up on him slowly, my loafers crunching over the gravel, the noise resonating through the air.

“You just gonna stay quiet before I beat your fucking ass to the ground?”

I take another step, yards between us now.

“You in love with Joelle or something?” He keeps moving toward me while I do the same. “She’s got a fine-ass pussy. I don’t blame you.” He draws up his upper lip. “I had some the other day. On the house.” He winks.

He doesn’t see it coming. Not until it’s too late. The bullet from my gun punctures him straight through his esophagus, the silencer on. No one hears him fall to his knees, gasping for breath, mouth parted wide, eyes even wider.

With the weapon in my hand, I step closer, his hands covering the hole in his neck, blood seeping, slicing in between his fingers.

“This is a lot better.” I pat his head, placing the gun back into my pocket and removing the knife. “Now, what were you saying about her pussy?”

He gurgles up blood in response.

“Oh, right.” I snicker. “You’re preoccupied. No worries. You don’t need to talk. You just gotta listen.” Circling around him, I run the pointy edge of the blade up his back. “How does your blood taste? Hmm?”

He lifts a trembling hand as I make it to his front. I near the weapon to his eye. “You must be proud of yourself for doing what you did to her.” My body buzzes with the rage pounding through it. I could barely contain it, my teeth grinding so hard, they could shatter.

“You’ll never get to touch her again.” Each word is neatly wrapped in fury, the tip of the knife quietly slicing under his eyes. “It must’ve been you who put those bruises on her.”

He shakes his head, trying to speak, but all that comes out is a choke and the spitting of his blood.

“She begged me not to kill you for what the Bianchis can do to her as payback, but no one will know it’s me. No one will suspect it. They have so many enemies. I’m only one. And I’m sure a fucker like you has plenty of his own.”

He continues to stare, hacking, strangling on his own demise. My other hand reaches for his pants, unzipping it. He must suspect where the knife will go next because he fights me as I try to take them off.

“Let’s make this quicker, shall we? I have places to be.” I rear the knife, stabbing the top of his hand. He quickly jolts it away, unable to scream, to call for help while I pull down his pants. “Not the way I wanted to spend my evening, but we do what must be done. And this, I’ll gladly do for what you did to her. You will suffer. Painfully.”

After his tiny dick is visible, I line my blade at the base. But before I start to cut, I grip his shirt in my fist, nearing his face, his blood dripping over my hand. “I’d make you suffer for days if I had the luxury of time, so for now, this will have to do.”

Then I slice.

He chokes, screaming in silence. There’s no one to hear him begging for mercy. I’ve never cut a dude’s dick off before. Add it to my growing list of talents.

The savagery roaring in my veins is untamable. Images of what he did to her slam into my mind over and over until I realize his dick is completely off.

“Open your mouth, motherfucker. I’m gonna give you something good to chew on.”

He sobs soundlessly, his chin quivering, the pathetic tears of a coward rolling down his round cheeks, some caught in his beard, those charcoal eyes drenched with a massive dose of regret.

“Okay, since I’m such a good guy, I’ll help you out.” I pry his mouth open, my fist with the knife in it pushing against his upper teeth as I stuff his dick down his throat with the other.

“Chew,” I demand as he tries to spit it out. “I said chew.” I keep my voice low, the tip of the knife nearing his eye socket.

And then he does. The motherfucker chews his own damn dick. Well, as good as he can with the bullet in his throat.

“This would make a pretty picture, don’t you think? I bet your mother would love one as a keepsake.”

I remove my cell from my pants pocket and snap a pic, the flash glaring against the darkness, the only other light coming from his car.

If Joelle ever needs to see it, I’ll have the photo ready for her. I want her to know that I’ll always be there to do whatever the fuck I can to keep her safe, even when she doesn’t want me to.

He gags, his eyes rounding.

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