Page 45 of Unholy

“Yes, boss.” And he is eager, like a little puppy dog.

Keeping my focus on the wall before me, full of shiny toys ready to be used, “I have a gift for you, Thomas. A reward, really. Your reliability and trustworthiness has earned you this,” I praise him, as per the baby books I have been reading suggest I do. Allegedly, when one is given positive reinforcement, it makes them feel good, and they continue the good behavior. I have also tried this on my pigs when they are eating the bodies I feed them, and their curly little tails wag each time. This is one book that can be trusted.

Reaching forward, my hand wraps around the wooden handle as I lift the blade out of the wall mount. I had Rogers sharpen and shine it this morning, completely unaware at the time that this ceremony would be happening so soon.

“It would appear that my dad is displeased. The Ranch being burnt down is being blamed on us when it was clearly Dalton. So now, we get to play, and Thomas, you get to play with me this time.” Turning around, I hold out the machete and present it to him. Thomas’s face is one of shock, and I swear to fuck if he cries, I will throw it at him instead. I don’t care.

Stepping forward, his dress shoes click against the concrete flooring. The guy is always in a suit, and today he is wearing a black one with a white dress shirt underneath. I’ve told him he doesn’t need to wear this shit, but here we are. Another day, another suit.

“Your first weapon is not to be taken lightly. My dad gave me mine.” I nod my head toward my bat leaning against the wall. “And now I give you yours. It’s a classic, just like you, the machete. Out of all the options, I believe this one will serve you best.”

Thomas is still in complete disbelief. “If you cry or hug me, I will kill you with it,” I warn.

Shaking off any sign of emotion, he reassures me, “I won’t, don’t worry, boss.”

Placing the machete in his hands, he grips the handle and blows out a deep breath. His thumb runs along the sharp blade, cutting himself in the process because he is a dumbass. Hissing at the sting, Thomas brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks on the cut.

He still has so much to learn before the baby comes.

“We don’t have time for you to bleed or feel, do you understand? We have bodies to carve up, and you are pissing me off the longer I have to wait here,” I growl as I begin to lose my patience.

Bringing his thumb out of his mouth, he replies, “Yes, boss. I understand. I’m ready.”

“You did a fine job collecting Brad and assisting me in setting up the body farm. Now, let’s see what you do when they are still alive.” Warmth fills my chest as I close my eyes, visualizing warm blood on my hands, dripping off my fingers. They are still alive as it rapidly pumps out of them, I watch as the life leaves their eyes, satisfied in knowing my face was the last one they saw.

My cock hardens, but I do nothing to hide or stop it.

“May we reunite the father-son duo,” Thomas states confidently.

My eyes swiftly open, irritated.

“Greta is coming to stay with us,” Rain cheerfully interrupts me further. My head whips around to look at her sticking her head out of the house.

“The fuck she is.” Pleasure instantly turns to rage, and it wastes no time filling my body. The muscles in my hands twitch. I reach for my wooden bat with the intention to use it on the old hag.

Placing her tiny hands on her ever-growing belly, Rain’s tone changes and she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

Fuck.

That tummy has me on my knees every night, eating Rain’s pussy, and I fucking devour it. If I pull on her clit piercing with my tongue, it triggers a waterfall like nothing I had ever experienced before. So she knows, whenever she rubs her bump, I cannot resist and will do whatever she demands if it means I can feast on her later.

Greta will be our new roommate, but she never indicated if Greta had to stay alive during her stay. I grip my bat harder, my knuckles turning white, and it is taking every ounce of power I have to stop myself from playing with Denture Dolly.

Rain smirks in an effort to distract me further from my racing internal monologue. “Now go play,” is all she says before disappearing back inside.

A loud roar erupts from deep within, and I slam my bat down against the stainless countertop. “Get in the car.” My tone is toxic and would make that old cunt shit her pants if she were standing here.

Thomas scurries around the Range and jumps into the passenger seat with his new prized possession.

“Let’s fucking play.”

It’s dark,we have been in the tree line for hours, watching and waiting. I don’t mind this part—the calm before the chaos. To sit in silence and just be, I like it. It’s what comforts me.

Dalton and his team will suspect an immediate retaliation. We parked a couple miles away and walked through the woods to get to his property line, which isn’t secure at all. The guy is power-hungry, a fucking joke. There is no way he would have remained King for long, even if this shit wasn’t all going on. His acumen for organized crime is at a staggering zero.

We have been sitting here for a couple hours, the sun has long since set and the moon is covered by overcast.

The last visible light in the house went off forty-five minutes ago, if my time estimate is correct. I can’t check my phone, it would be too much of a risk because they would see it shining, revealing our location.

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