Page 94 of Unleash Hades
“His death should be slow. It should be long, and painful. This is too fast.” Cali shook her head. “He can’t just die peacefully!”
Her voice lifted in a scream.
To my surprise, she stepped forward and planted a boot into his side, kicking him like a football at the penalty area.
“You bastard!” she screamed.
She kicked him again, and he kept on fighting for breath.
If he could speak, I errantly wondered what he would say. Would he try to placate her? Would he apologize? Would he plead and beg? I wasn’t sure.
Callum and Alastair were in the room, staring at Calissandra as she beat the man to death.
I placed my hand into my pocket, to find the brass knuckles I kept there in case of a melee. I grabbed Cali before she did another kick, and handed her the brass knuckles. She stared at it, dazed and confused. I placed it on her hand and turned her fingers into fists.
“Voila,” I said, nodding to the corpse. “So you won’t hurt your fists when you get there.”
It was only a matter of time before she stopped using her foot and I’d hate for her to hurt her knuckles.
She wasn’t like Rose or the She-Bear. She wasn’t a trained fighter. Still, she deserved this revenge, as long as Richard had the good sense to stay somewhat alive.
I brought a phone to my ear and dialed.
“Pippa?” I said, as soon as it connected. “I need you to do a cover up.”
“How bad is the damage?” Philippa asked, that snooty voice over the phone as annoying as the first time I met her - back when she was Callum’s fiancée and an absolute bitch.
Before she revealed to us that she was, in fact, an MI6 spy.
“Well… he’s been shot in the heart.” I winced, because the rest would be harder to explain. “He’s still alive and is currently being beaten.”
There was a disbelieving silence on the other end. A quiet that was so heavy, that it rubbed my skin.
“How badly bruised will he be pre-mortem?” Pippa’s tone was slow and puzzled.
I switched it to speakerphone so that I could hold my mobile away from my face and get a better look at the damage Cali was inflicting.
“I’m thinking a few kicks, broken ribs, and…”
Calissandra fell to the ground, still screaming, and she switched from her kicks to the brass knuckles. She lifted her arm, and punched downward, the knuckles making contact with Richard’s nose. Blood spurted from the wound, spraying across the floor.
“Facial trauma.” I finished.
“How significant?” Philippa asked.
“Pretty significant,” Callum chuckled.
I turned to my comrades, and saw that their weapons were on safe, their rifles dangling from straps to the armor. Their pistols holstered and put away.
“And how would you like me to cover up this pretty significant blunt trauma and gunshot wound?” Pippa asked.
I thought about it for a moment, wondering what the best answer would be. Then, eventually, I settled on the most obvious solution.
“Suicide?” It was just a suggestion.
“Are you bloody joking? Suicide? From a gunshot wound to the chest, and incredible lacerations and breaks throughout his body?”
“Maybe…” I thought it over. “He fell down the stairs?”
