Page 41 of Pretend
Torture.
“Aaand, that’s the last one.” I yank the last tooth out of Frankie’s mouth with metal pliers. I plop them on the wooden table next to me, placing the last molar he had in a bowl.
Every time Frankie screams, I smile harder.
“Try to fucking eat now.”
I heard what he said about eating her ass. I heard every fucking word. And I’m making him regret it.
Her ass, her cunt, her mouth,and her soulare elements that no one on this earth is deserving of…including me.
I found the local Emergency Room, followed, and waited until he was discharged to make him pay for touching my little valentine.
Nobody touches her; nobody will bring her pain, and if someone with a beating heart would dare do such things, it’ll be me.
Wishful thinking.
I grin sadistically, satisfied that I always follow through with my promises. All of his teeth sit in a bowl.
Frankie’s mouth is a bloody mess. He’s strapped tight on a chair as he wails and screams until, finally, he passes out.
Thank fuck.
Graves looked into him, and unsurprisingly, this imbecile has a history—two DUIs. Multiple domestic violence charges, and then Graves hit the jackpot while he conducted his investigation.
He’s a drug trafficker.
“Fuck, man. What did this one do to piss you off? You didn’t even let me interrogate him for information. I know multiple people looking for him.” Graves has one arm on his hip, pulling Frankie’s head up by the ends of his brown hair.
I shrug.
“He was…annoying. That should be sufficient enough.” I stand, the chair I was sitting on screeches backward.
“True,” he nods, slapping Frankie’s cheek to see if he’s really unconscious, and he doesn’t flinch from the deep slumber I put him in. Letting Frankie’s unconscious head fall back down, it flops, and his whole body slumps over.
His yellow shirt is now a permanently stained waterfall mess of red.
Graves slaps his gloved hands over his palms like he’s trying to get rid of Frankie’s germs. He’s wearing a black suit and tie, with a Rolex on his wrist. Healways likes to dress up in fancy suits as he works. I prefer comfort over flashy suits and jewelry. Right now, I’m wearing a dark sweater and sweatpants.
“But there’s more you’re not telling me.” He walks over to me, crosses his arms, and leans against a wall.
The room is dark, with little to no light. Lit candles surround it, along with torture toys to get anyone to sing loud.
“He was touching a girl.”
He raises a brow at me, pressing me for more information. I don’t like talking about my personal life. In fact, I don’t like talking at all. But for some reason, when I’m around the Admiral’s step-daughter, I can’t shut the fuck up.
Graves, being Graves, my step-brother, I tell him everything. He owns a security company. He also offers other services, including torture, which I sometimes partake in when I’m not on deployments or missions. He’s also in the mafia.
“Spit it out, Creature.” He throws one of Frankie’s teeth at me, but I dodge it in time.
“Her name is Alessia.”
“Jackpot! And you care about this girl.” He grins, crossing his arms like he’s entertained.
“I do…I guess. But I don’t want to care. Our situation makes it hard.”
“Ah, did you ask this one out on a date like a normal dude would or…?”
