Page 53 of Wicked Riddles & Bitter Heartbeats

“What the fucking fuck you fucking asshole!”

I yank on the belt, pulling it tight and he chokes, gripping the belt and trying to get it off. I put my boot on his chest, pressing him into the couch while tugging harder. He flails his arms, kicks his feet, does just about everything he can to get me off him, but he’s weak as hell.

“See, you’re just a pawn in this game, but you’ll go down in history. I’ll forever be grateful for you. Because without you, my brother will never know I exist.”

Neil can still breathe, though I know it isn’t easy. He’s panicking because he isn’t getting enough oxygen. This will make him pass out eventually. Freaking out is making it worse.

“I found this,” Lilah says, coming up beside me. Neil’s eyes widen when he sees her.

I grin. “I know. She’s fucking hot, right?” I tug tighter and his mouth drops open, hands moving more frantically.

Lilah hands me a spoon that’s serrated on the end. I have no idea what this is used for but…

“This is perfect,” I say, looking at Neil. “It’s the perfect shape to scoop his eyeballs out.”

I wasn’t sure his eyes could bug out more, but they do.

Lilah sucks in a slow breath. “Can I do it?” I look at her, eyes narrowed. “Please, Atty? I’ve always wanted to.”

Blinking a few times, I say, “Have you?”

“Yes.” She nods hurriedly. “I don’t really know why, it just seems… fun.”

I’ve never scooped eyeballs out of someone’s head before and it’s not something I care much about. She is right though, it does seem like fun. But I’ll get more enjoyment out of seeing her happy than doing it myself.

“Be my guest, Kitten,” I say, handing her the spoon back.

She grins wide, moving closer to Neil. I hold my arm out, stopping her.

“I need to do something about his hands. If he touches you, I’ll have to cut them off.”

“Would that be so bad?” she asks.

I huff out a laugh. “No, but I didn’t bring tools to cut through bone.”

Neil grunts, fighting a little harder.

Looking around the room, I try to find something I can use to tie his hands. When I spot it, I tell Lilah to go get it. When she brings me back the clothesline rope, I tell her to grab the gun and hold it to his head.

“If you try to get up, she will shoot you,” I tell him, loosening the belt. He’s too busy focusing on breathing to care about what I’m doing to his hands. Besides, they’re probably numb and not working due to the lack of oxygen. I tie them tightly together, cutting off circulation.

When his hands are tied, I tug on the belt again, causing him to choke. Lilah gets closer, a wicked smile on her face as she goes toward him with the spoon. She turns it this way and that way, then looks at me over her shoulder.

“How do I do this?”

“Come on, Kitten,” I say. “You can figure it out.”

She frowns, huffs, then turns back to Neil. Her hand goes to his forehead, to hold him in place while she steps onto the couch. He’s jerking his head back and forth, wiggling his body, trying to breathe and get away. He’s not putting up a very good fight, and I wonder if he’s high off something that isn’t weed. There isn’t a lot of fight coming out of him, which is disappointing.

“Stop moving,” Lilah complains. She growls, then jabs the spoon at him. He yelps loudly, bucking his hips and kicking his feet. I tug tighter on the belt and shift my stance, catching sight of the spoon stuck under his left eye.

“Keep going,” I tell her calmly. “It’s not out yet.”

“But he’s moving.”

I shrug. “You wanted to do this.”

Her expression turns determined and she goes back to him, finagling the spoon around his eye and effectively popping it out. It looked easier than I expected it to. Kind of gruesome too, seeing the dark hole in his face, blood pouring from it. If he were able to breathe, he’d be yelling, but I’m choking him so tightly he can’t make a sound. I give him a minute before he passes out.

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