Page 73 of The Devil's Secret

“Name!” I swing the knife, piercing it into his shoulder, pushing it deeper.

His shrieks turn into gasping sobs.

“Name!” I pull out the blade, readying to do it again.

“S-S-Sammy Rio.”

A triumphant grin settles over my face. I flip the knife in my palm, eyeing the black resin handle, a knife Dante got for me, one for Dom too. They were custom made by a guy he knows. Beautiful work. Perfect for what we do with them.

Dom would’ve been here too, but he’s busy taking care of Chiara after our gun supplier, Cain, hurt her. His end was pretty painful too, but probably not as painful as Graham’s and Jay’s will be.

“Where’s the club located?” That’s one thing we haven’t yet figured out.

“I—” His snivel is exhausting and annoying as fuck.

“Hurry up,” I say, the tip of the blade nearing his throat. “I’m getting pretty antsy.”

“I—I don’t know.” He tries to catch his breath. “We call a n-n-number on the back of a gold card. Guy in a mask shows up, b-b-blindfolds us, and drives us there.”

“So basically, you’re fucking useless,” I grit. “Figures.” My chin tips up to Dante and he gets to prying Jay’s mouth open. With the blade in hand, I slowly saw off his tongue, the screams of a man who holds no power only getting louder.

But I’m not done. Nearing Jay’s ear this time, I grasp it tight. When he starts shaking, I glance up at Dante. “Bro, could you hold him down? I’m trying to work here.”

“Hurry up, then.” Dante clutches Jay’s shoulders. “My brother’s pretty good with a knife.” He grins. “Just not as good as me. So this may take a while.”

“Fuck you, man,” I hit back, the blade leveling against Jay’s ear, and I get to cutting.

“Mmm!” The asshole attempts a shout, but it comes out more like a mumble. He deserves it. If anything, he’s getting off easy.

After his ear is clean off, I toss it over his limp dick, or whatever’s left of it, dropping the knife on the floor beside his feet.

Graham mumbles with a cry as I march to the stove, picking up the pot of water hot enough for even Satan to be satisfied.

I walk it over to them. “Enjoy the shower, fuckers.” With a faint chuckle, I flip half of the scorching liquid over Graham, some of it filling his mouth, searing over that half of his tongue he still owns.

Drops flick past my own face.

Shit. Thisisdamn hot.

As I near Jay, he shakes his head, eyes bulging. I do the same to him, the water drowning out his pathetic attempt at making a sound, tidal waves of blazing heat pouring over him.

Giving them one final look, I make my way back to my weapons, dropping the pot into the sink. My fingers drift over one of the torches we like to use, melting off the flesh of our enemies.

“It’s enough.” Her voice drifts me out of the haze. “You don’t need to do more. End it.” She’s on her feet, treading to me, her light footfalls getting close, a hand on my bicep as she nears.

“Are you sure?” I turn, rounding a palm on her hip. “You have to be damn sure. There’s no going back.”

“I am.” She takes my other hand in hers, the blood of her torturers smearing past her long fingers as she stares deeply into my eyes. “Kill them.”

I drift a gaze to her lips, my heart echoing with affection, and I kiss her. Slow. My blood-stained fingers lace into her waves, silky around my hand as I angle her sideways, deepening our connection.

She wrecks me, then builds me back up again. The consuming way she weaves herself through every part of my existence, it’s damn near flawless.

Reluctantly drifting off her, I place one more kiss on the tip of her nose before I’m back to my knives, tightening a fist around another, the blade longer, thinner.

The wooden floorboards creak beneath my feet, the two men still whimpering like dying animals, half caught between this world and the next.

I won’t kill them for mercy. Their death comes only because she asked it to. If it were up to me, I’d torture them more, until they died from blood loss, from shock. But if this is enough for her, then it should be enough for me.

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