Page 70 of Envy

I take a deep breath, swallowing nausea, trying to recognize the scents. John. David. Just the two of them.

I still have thephone Garret gave me. I didn’t leave it behind. Just in case. I was right. I can only hope Garret looks for me. If he hasn’t given up. Maybe he was waiting for me to leave. Maybe he already got what he wanted. Control.

John curses.

“What’s wrong?” David asks.

“The cameras are out.”

“Want me to check?”

John exhales sharply. “No. Stay here with her. Clean this shit up.”

The door slams. I close my eyes. This is the part David loves. The fact that I’m restrained. The power in forcing me to submit.

He grips my hair. Yanks. Pain splits my skull. The clinking of his belt buckle is unmistakable. And then, the smell. Cinnamon.

I gag.

He rubs cinnamon on the head of his cock. “Stop it and be a good little whore.”

I scream.

His hand cracks across my cheek. The burn spreads across my skin, a fire consuming me.

I turn my head away. I inhale deep. He presses closer. I bite. Hard.

The taste of copper explodes in my mouth. David screams.

His hands cup his junk. “You fucking bitch!” he snarls, slapping me again.

Stars explode behind my eyes. I spit in his face. “Fuck… you,” I manage, panting.

The door slams open. David freezes. I turn my head. A man in a plague mask stands in the doorway. Dressed in a black long robe.

David starts screaming. My eyes lock on the object in the masked man’s gloved hand. John’s head. Severed. Dark red muscle and bone hang in shredded tatters.

David chokes. “Who…are you?” His voice shakes with real fear.

The masked man steps forward, the head swinging from his grip.

David glances down, then back up. “She bit my dick,” he whimpers. “She bit… I?—”

I follow his gaze. John’s empty eyes stare at the ceiling. Blood seeps from his ruined skull. Tears leak down my face. I’m going to die. He won’t let me live. I know too much.

“Please,” David begs. “Let me go. I’ll pretend none of this ever happened.”

He looks at me. “You can have her. Just let me go.”

The man in the mask shakes his head. And lifts John’s head like a prize form a hunt. An offering.

David sobs. His hands shake as he cups himself, still bleeding out. “Please…” He holds up the bottle in his hand. “It’s cinnamon.” Like it’s a fucking peace offering. “See?”

The masked man opens his fingers. John’s head thuds to the floor. Itrolls like a bowling ball.

A long, gleaming knifeslips from the man’s sleeve. David screams right before the blade swings down. Clean. Precise. David’s dick hits the floor. His shrieks shake the walls. Hedrops to his knees. Tries to grab it. The blade swings again. Vertically.The cut leaves his head in half. Red blood spray paints the walls. David collapses.

The man sheathes the knife.

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