Page 24 of The Devils Melody
Seems someone got his energy back. This should be…interesting.
Kage stands in front of him, arms crossed, his head tilted slightly admiring his work. There’s a satisfaction inhis stance, similar to a predator enjoying the first moments of watching their prey. I already know what’s coming next, I’ve seen it hundreds of times.Kage loves the slow kill.
“You ever gut a deer, Frankie?” Kage’s voice is almost casual, low and smooth, but there’s an edge to it.
Frankie stiffens, his lips parting as if he wants to speak, but no words come out. Kage just keeps going, a menacing grin plastered on his face.
“First, you slice up the belly,realslow. Just enough to open it up without puncturing anything important. Let the air hit the insides, let all the warmth leak out…” He slides his hand down the front of Frankie’s sweat soaked shirt, pressing hard against his stomach. Frankie flinches, his muscles tensing under Kage’s touch.
Kage grins.There it is.
“Then, you reach in. You start pulling everything out, intestines, liver, heart, piece by piece. It feels real hot in your hands. Slick…alive,” Kage’s voice drops lower, almost a whisper against Frankie’s ear. “At first.”
I glance at Frankie. His pulse is hammering so hard, I can see it in his throat.
“P-please, y-you don’t have to do this,” he stammers, his voice cracking.
Rolling my eyes, I let out a slow breath, shaking my head. They always say that.
Kage chuckles, amused as all hell. “Oh, no?” He leans down, lips just behind Frankie’s ear. “You think we’re doing this because wehaveto?”
He flinches, eyes darting to me questioning if I might be the reasonable one. Fucking wrong.
“You grabbed that girl atThe Dollhouseas if she was yours to take,” I say, crouching in front of him. “That was fun for you, watching her squirm. Wasn’t it?”
His mouth opens then closes, scrambling to come up with something, fucking anything, that might help him get out of this mess he got himself into.
“I-I didn’t mean?—”
Kage’s fingers curl into the top of Frankie’s hair, yanking his head back hard enough that he sucks in a sharp breath. “Don’t youfuckinglie to us.” He curses through clenched teeth.
I stand, adjusting my cuffs, appearing to look bored with this little charade we’re playing as I step away from them. “Let's get one thing straight, Frankie. We’re not doing this because we have to,” I glance at Kage, who’s watching Frankie as though he’s nothing more than an animal at the end of its usefulness. “We’re doing this because wewantto.”
Kage grins, teeth bared like a fucking lion ready to attack. “And we’rereallyfucking good at it.” He releases his head with force, causing Frankie’s face to twitch, but he keeps his mouth shut. He’s seen the brutality we’re capable of, but there’s a stubbornness in his eyes and that is something that’s going to cost him.
I step closer, my eyes narrowing as I lean in, speaking low and deliberate. “You’re our only fucking lead, Frankie. Names, locations, who’s running this sick fucking ring of yours. You’re gonna tell us everything.” I pause, letting the weight of my words sink in. “And we’re not leaving here until you do.”
Frankie’s jaw clenches so hard I can see the muscles in his neck bulging, his entire body going rigid in the chair. He’s trying to hold it together, but it’s fucking pointless. There’s no escape. He’s trapped. Either he dies by our hands, or he dies at theirs. In the end, it doesn’t fuckingmatter, he dies regardless. It’s his choice on whether it's a slow death or not.
Kage stands tall above Frankie, his shadow swallowing the bastard whole. His voice is low and dark. “You think you’re tough, don’t you, Frankie?” he taunts, moving in so close his breath is hot on Frankie’s face.
“Let's see how tough youreallyare.” I say, as I make my way over to the appliance room.
I step inside, flicking on the overhead light. This is where we store all of Kage’s favorite toys. Bone saws sharpened to precision. Embalming instruments laid out like a mortician’s pristine collection. Drills with bits designed to burrow and shatter bone. A barbed wire wrapped baseball bat, the dried remnants of its last use still crusted between the metal coils.
A shiver runs through me as the memory of Kage using that bat flashes through my mind. The sickening crack of bone as he split the last guy's head open like a melon is a sound I’ll never forget. The sheer brutality of Kage’s methods used to make me question his sanity. These days, it’s just another day at the office.
I force my attention back to the tools, strolling past the rows and carefully brushing my fingers across them as if they were fragile. Every instrument you could possibly imagine that could be used to torture a man is in this room, displayed as Kage’s personal trophies. I’m not as consumed by it as he is, but I can respect his method. Watching Kage unleash his demons, the way he channels his anger from his past into the lives he takes; it really is something else.
I linger a moment longer, my eyes scanning the room full of tools, until something in the far left corner of the room catches my attention. A large metal bucket, tucked away amongst the rest of the tools. A devilish grin tugs atmy face and I already know, Kage is going to fucking love this.
Sliding my arms into the elbow-length gloves, I reach for the canister. As I lift it, I feel the weight shift inside, the soft slosh of its contents is music to my ears. The viscous liquid inside reeks of chemicals. Sulfuric acid, to be exact. A special liquid we’ve used before, one that melts through flesh like a fucking parasite. It’s slow and agonizing, and fucking perfect.
Grabbing an extra pair of gloves for Kage, I make my way back into the main room, the heavy thud of my boots echoing off the walls as I carry in the hefty canister. Kage lifts his chin, eyes gleaming as he spots what I’m carrying. His devious grin spreads wide as something dark and sinister flickers in his icy blues.
“Aw, Nox,” he drawls, cracking his neck while he gets ready to have the time of his life. “You really do know how to make your brother happy.”
Frankie’s eyes snap to the canister in my hands, the color instantly draining from his face. His breathing turns ragged, sweat slicking his skin as his eyes grow wide in fear. He doesn’t know what’s in the canister, but he doesn’t have long before he finds out.
