Page 101 of Jagged Souls
But he can’t stop it.
He’s locked in, a prisoner in his own body.
Still screaming, he sticks his tongue out and slides the skin of his cock onto it. Then he grabs what remains of his penis with his other hand and starts jerking himself off, chaffing his exposed nerves, veins, and tissue, sending bits of blood spraying with every movement.
“I swear I didn’t want to,” the other captive sobs. A lie to save his own skin. I have seen the video. I can never forget that fucking video.
He fucked her as she lay unmoving, trying her best to dissociate and survive. He did it enthusiastically. He did it willingly. And even if he hadn’t, he hadn’t saved her. That is enough for me to punish him.
Feeling my own guilt for not stopping it, I step forward and rub my foot across the outer circle of runes. He doesn’t try to fight like the other two did. He just sobs harder.
“Please… don’t… I can be of use. I can tell you what they are working on.”
I stop just to give him hope before I take it away. “Talk.”
He shudders in relief. “Eduardo has made chimeras. Not like us but finished ones. And he’s trying to get that other witch to create a disease that’ll enhance us. Like rabies or myso – myso…” He breathes out heavily as he struggles to remember the words. “Myostatin hypertrophy!” he blurts. “She hasn’t managed it, but she’s close.”
I recall the souped up wolf we fought in Morn Tower. It was going to die even if we hadn’t killed it; whatever it had in its blood was terminal. I don’t doubt Terra Harrison, the infamous witch who helped wipe out nearly a third of the world’s population barely more than a century ago, could perfect her work with time. But we’ve just taken down the majority of the Death Hunt. Now they don’t have enough soldiers to infect.
I stare down at the pathetic man before me.
His hope dies in his eyes, and I relish in the fear that soon replaces it. He starts to hyperventilate as he tries to think of something else to say.
“Is that all?” I ask mockingly.
He gasps, falling to his hands in front of me, kneeling down as he begs for mercy. “Please! My name’s Alejandro. I’m a victim! Eduardo would cut off our hands and use them to jack himself off if we didn’t obey! I –”
Dayne charges in front of me, tearing through the circle. He grabs Alejandro by the top of his head. He hauls him to his feet, then moves his grip to be around his neck. “What did you just say?”
I glance at Micha’s best friend, studying him warily. He was enraged before, but now he’s lethal. Calm. Buzzing with a volatile energy that sits right beneath the surface. The air around him becomes charged.
Sobbing, Alejandro tries to collapse back to the floor.
Dayne simply lifts him into the air, his feet now kicking as he struggles to breathe. His body convulses as jolts of electricity fry him from the inside. When he is dropped, he hits the ground with a thud, then curls into a ball. Dayne squats down in front of him, but before he can touch him again, Alejandro blurts out what he wants to hear.
Eduardo cutting off their hands clearly means something to him. His eyes blazing, Dayne stands and looks at me.
“Take me to her,” he demands.
“I can’t phase.”
“Then we drive.”
My eyes narrow. “He’ll move her before we get there.” As much as I want to be her fucking white knight, I can’t waste time on pointless endeavors.
Pivoting on his feet, Dayne roars as he throws a bolt of lightning at the wolf I knocked unconscious.
“Stormie!” I snap, not wanting the fucker to die. I barely left him alive.
A bubble pops into existence, blocking Dayne’s attack a second before impact. Crackling white bolts spread across the pink surface with a deafening boom. Jona tries to take the moment to run, but Stormie throws up a bubble around him too, catching him mid-stride. He slams into the inside of his prison, then screams as it shrinks around him, forcing him into a stress position. Khalid just stands there watching everything, ready to step in only if he’s needed. I know he wants to use his energy for other things; it’s been clear in his pheromones ever since we got back.
“What do the hands mean?” I ask, ignoring the smell of my brother’s desire.
Dayne turns to look at me, his lips flat, his anger back under control – barely. “There was a serial killer targeting sups a few years ago. He’d have three or four victims at a time, and he would keep them in dog cages until he wanted entertainment.” His jaw tightens. Tension rolls off him in fucking waves. “Then he’d force them to fuck, maim, or kill each other, using the…improvementshe’d given them.”
My stomach churns, able to guess where this is going.
“He would cut off their hands – sometimes after they died, but mostly while they were alive and able to watch him use them.” He clenches his fists as he struggles to stay still. “The SCU eventually went after him when he took one of their families.” He glances away, his eyes darkening like they did before. A trick of the light perhaps, considering when he looks back at me, they are his usual dark-brown with white scleras. He shakes his head, furious with himself. “I thought the fucker died, and I never knew his name. He’s changed his face too.”
