Page 37 of Psycho Killers

“Ready for this?” Dom asks, grabbing my shoulder in a final, supportive grip as we gather by the door.

“Ready,” I confirm, my heart racing not with fear but with the thrill of possibility.

Tonight is mine. I might be fighting demons, but I’ll do it on my terms—one mile at a time.

EIGHTEEN

ADMIRATION

THE QUIET THINGS THAT NO ONE EVER KNOWS: BRAND NEW

KILLIAN

As I step into the warehouse, the first sound that reaches my ears is the echo of Gunnar's pained moans, a haunting sound that oddly heightens the moment. Calista walks forward, seemingly entranced, never once glancing back at me. Her focus remains steadfast on her steps, guiding her toward her awaiting puppet. I can sense her determination to end this, and with Gunnar being the final piece before she exacts her ultimate revenge on her parents, I can't help but wonder how much longer she'll prolong the inevitable.

With a knife in hand, she moves without a mask tonight, her lips parting to hum a tune that eludes my memory. I find myself following her silently, allowing the melody to envelop me. Before long, a smile begins to form on my lips, appreciating the unexpected beauty of her heartfelt song.

Upon turning the corner, my gaze lands on Gunnar, suspended by heavy chains from a sturdy wooden beam overhead. His appearance is a disturbing sight—Calista has clearly worked her dark magic on him, and the twisted thrillit brings me is undeniable. Both of his eyes are swollen and bruised, black and purple, with gashes marring his neck, face, and arms. Dried blood crusts his skin, pooling beneath him like a macabre testament to his suffering. It looks as if he’s faced off against Freddy Krueger himself.

"Damn, Cali, what did you do to him?" I ask, leaning closer as she lights a cigarette, letting the smoke curl right into his eyes.

"Nothing compared to what he did to me," she answers, methodically pressing the glowing end of her cigarette into his bare skin, eliciting a brief scream before she silences him with a bloodied rag she retrieves from the ground.

"I can see that." I chuckle, winking at Gunnar as he shoots me a threatening glare, one that only makes me laugh harder, fully aware that he’s helpless in this moment.

I reach for Calista, my hand finding the nape of her neck, and I pull her close, capturing her lips with mine. I push her back against Gunnar's hanging body for leverage, my free hand exploring her every contour, reveling in the knowledge that I'm giving Gunnar a sight designed to provoke his anger even further.

The moment hangs suspended as I press against her, the metallic scent of blood mingling with the smoke still drifting from her lips. The taste of rebellion is thick between us, and I can practically feel Gunnar’s fury radiating from his beaten form. I lean back, searching Calista's eyes, full of mischief and magic, and I can see a storm brewing behind them, a tempest swirling with vengeance.

“Let’s not keep him waiting too long,” I whisper, a mischievous grin stretching across my face, as if to coax her further into the madness that is overtaking us both.

In the dim light of the warehouse, her eyes flicker between excitement and caution—a dance only she can lead. She nods,her fingers trembling but resolute as she raises the knife, its blade glinting ominously.

“He's not the only one who gets to play tonight,” she whispers, as she circles Gunnar slowly, her movements deliberate and practiced, each step fueled by an intoxicating blend of anger and anticipation.

“You know, the way you’ve treated him, it’s almost sad." I laugh, soaking in the quivering tension. "But we both know how much you thrive in chaos, don't we, Cali?”

Gunnar’s teeth grind audibly at my taunts, but all I hear is the rhythm of Calista’s breathing, a sweet counterpoint to the heavy silence around us. I watch as she leans close, her breath ghosting over Gunnar's ear, as if she’s about to share secrets only the two of them could ever understand.

“Do you remember what you did to me?” she hisses, her voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “Every laugh at my expense, every moment of humiliation—tonight, I’m collecting what’s owed.” She takes the rag out of his mouth, wanting to hear his screams.

Gunnar's eyes widen, and for a fleeting moment, I see his bravado slip, revealing how acutely aware he is of the monster she’s become. Her knife bites into the flesh of his shoulder just enough to draw blood—but not so deep as to severe. She’s toying with him, savoring the way his body responds to each calculated push of pain.

“Cali, please?—”

“Don’t plead with me now,” she interrupts, pressing the knife closer to his throat, making him flinch. “You lost that right the moment you decided I was nothing.”

I lean back, admiring the scene unfolding before me. There’s an art to her madness; she’s painting blood on the canvas of their shared past, and I’m nothing more than a spectator, fueled by dark delight. In that instant, I realize how her vengeance is notmerely directed at Gunnar, but at the world that had wronged her.

“We should spread the joy, don’t you think?” I suggest, suddenly invigorated by an idea. “Let’s make it a party. We’ve got the whole night ahead of us.”

Calista pauses, chewing on my words, her wild eyes sparking with inspiration. “You’re a genius, but we have a race to get to,” she breathes, a devilish smile creeping across her lips. "So I want to end this motherfucker so we can hurry up and make it."

And just like that, the warehouse transforms from a dreary setting of pain to an arena of release, echoing with the promise of glorious chaos. As we step into this new phase of our unholy alliance, I feel the chains of our past—both collectively and personally—begin to shatter, ready to unleash the monsters we’ve always been.

“Let’s paint this town red,” I say, and we both laugh at the sound of a twisted melody rising above Gunnar’s muffled protests.

It’s time to bring our enemies into the light and show them what it truly means to be hunted. With renewed purpose, Calista circles back to Gunnar, her grip on the knife steady and her eyes narrowed in determination.

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