Page 13 of Deviant

My lips quirk at the prospect, though somehow, I doubt he’ll live long enough for me to be able to follow through on either.

He lets out a little whimper as I get closer.

He’s always been a stupid fuck. An arrogant one too. Not sure when he grew a conscience, but more fool him for not simply putting a bullet in his own head and dealing with it the simple way.

As I hold the photo of Liliana up, in front of his eyes, I can see his pupils dilate.

“Want to watch as I fuck her?” I ask him.

He narrows his gaze, blood dripping down his chin from where I was forced to rip out his teeth one by one to get him to talk.

“You know you had a good thing going,” I add, walking around him, enjoying how his entire body flinches at our close proximity. “All you had to do was keep swimming, keep plodding, sure you were never going to get any higher up the ranks, but your life wasn’t so bad…”

And it wasn’t. He had a good job. Good car. Nice house. Just enough power to make things easy.

He mumbles something incoherent. I haven’t allowed him any pain meds. The only thing I will permit is what will keep him alive. Adrenaline. Fluids. But pain, no, he will feel every moment of this. He will endure every second.

“Was it worth it?” I ask, shoving the photo right in his face. “Was your inability to keep a secret worth this bitch’s life?”

He chokes, spitting blood all over the glossy paper and I tut, wiping it clean on his filthy, sweaty, hairy chest.

“Justice.” He gasps. “Justice.”

“Justice?” I repeat. Is that what he wanted. Was he as idealistic and naive as this journalist apparently is?

“The world doesn’t work like that, Ronin.” I murmur. “There’s no such thing as good and bad, right and wrong. There’s only power.” I state. Power granted by God. Power proving who is favoured and who isn’t.

He lets out a gurgle, that blood spraying more from his mouth. He’s been doing it more and more these last few hours. It’s another reason why I keep checking in. If he’s going to die, I want to bethere to witness it. I want my face to be the last thing he sees on this earth.

I click my fingers, signalling for the medic to take a look. But as I step back, I realise what this is, what is happening.

His heartisgiving out.

His body is too weak to continue.

I shove the photo back into his face. “She’s going to be my new toy, Ronin. She’s going to suffer, she’s going to be hurt much worse than you have, and it’s all your fault. You did this. You created this…”

His body starts jerking. Blood starts leaking out of wounds that should be stitched tight.

And then he slumps, his head lops forward ,and the medic shakes their head as if I’m too stupid to understand.

“Gone,” they say quietly like it’s a shame, like we should all mourn his loss.

I turn on my heel and leave without saying a word. He might be dead, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still have a use for him. He’ll help set the scene, establish boundaries if you will.

I’ve still got that photo in my hand, it’s smeared with his blood still, and, as I wipe it clean, I realise she’ll be getting desperate. She’ll be getting reckless. She’s lost her belongings, probably all her money. Her options are narrowing by the second and I know the type—she won’t go quietly. She’s already proven that fact from her interactions with Anthony.

I pull out my phone, dialling a number I’ve used only when is absolutely necessary.

The voice that answers wavers just a little. Oh, he may be a big name, he may, on paper, hold a lot of power and influence, but we’re the reason he is where he is, we’re the reason he’s grown his businesses, become the billionaire he is.

“There’s going to be a situation…” I begin, giving only the necessary details. After all knowledge is power and this fucker here, one day he’ll grow too big, too egotistical and forget who put him on his pedestal. I’m not going to help sow the seeds that may come back to fuck us all.

He replies quickly that it’s all in hand. That he’ll have measure put in place. The bitch’s account will be locked down, she can try and post as many times as she wants but nothing will go through.

Only, I doubt that will be enough of a deterrent. No, we’ll need to block all mentions of a cult. We’ll need to censor everything that goes live moving forward.

He huffs, pouts, starts listing reasons why that isn’t a great idea. That it’ll cost money, and a lot of it, as though considerations like that are my concern. The man is technically a billionaire. He has the funds. And we, the Brethren, are the reason why.

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