Page 68 of His Wife

“Is that why you killed Alicia? Tarina?” I scowl. “Melanie? To make us aware of our sins? I got news for you, asshole. We already know. Unlike you, we don’t go around pretending to be righteous when we know our paths to hell are already paved.”

He cranks his neck from side to side, his face that of rapture as if the reminder of his handiwork just gave him a motherfucking hardon. “The scripture says the lips of the adulterous woman drip honey, and her seductive words are smoother than olive oil—”

“I’d rather not get a scripture lesson from you right now.”

“—but she is bitter as wormwood, a sharp two-edged sword. Her feet go down to death, and her steps lead straight to the grave.” He smiles. “And that’s where I sent them. To their graves just like God told me to. But don’t worry.” The thumb of his other hand caresses Mira’s cheek. “I gave them their chance to confess their sins and to ask for forgiveness.”

I inch closer, my gaze cutting from him to Mira every few seconds. “Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Did you ask for forgiveness? Because I’m pretty sure murdering people is against whatever the fuck it is your religion teaches you.”

He lets out a maniacal cackle. “It’s for the greater good.”

“Let’s pretend for one minute that I’m buying into this slaughtering women for the greater good bullshit. What the fuck did Mira do? She’s not one of them.”

The way he slides his hand to her jaw, his dirty fingernails dragging across her skin, it’s like a snake slithering up my spine. “She might not be a harlot, but she’s the hand that caused me to stumble,” he murmurs, dragging a finger over her bottom lip. “I still do every time I look at her. My mind becomes a snake pit of sin, and the serpent infects me with its evil.”

An image of him jerking off in our family graveyard while stalking Mira fills my mind, and I shudder at the thought. “You’re a sick man.”

“It’s because of her. She infects my soul with her beauty.”

Mira pinches her eyes closed, the sound of her muffled sobs urging me to hurry this shit up. But I don’t like how he looks at her, how his voice hums with lust every time he talks about her. It’s like she unhinges him, and that’s the last thing we need.

“Micah, brother,” I say with a moderate dash of sarcasm. “Tell me about this theory of yours that you and I are related.”

His attention snaps back to me, and there’s no missing the disdain in his eyes as he studies me. “Our father wasn’t a saint.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Before he married your mother, he got a woman pregnant.”

“Your mother?”

He nods. “But she wasn’t like him. She didn’t come from a wealthy family, so she didn’t stand a chance. Not even when she knocked on his door with a crying baby in her arms.” He hisses through his teeth. “Our father sent her away, and he bought her silence with a check every month for the last thirty-six years. He made no attempt to see me or be a part of my life. No birthday cards. Christmas cards. Nothing.”

“And now you choose to punish others for something he did?”

“At first, yes. I wanted him to suffer for denying me my birthright by destroying his life from the outside in. I could have lived here.” He waves his hand around before pointing the blade's tip at me. “I could have been you. He robbed me of everything, and when I decided to infiltrate his life, getting this job here, I wanted to ruin his damn life.” A creepy-as-fuck smile settles on his face. “But then God intervened and gave me the justice I deserved, and our father paid for his sins.”

“His illness,” I mutter, unable to wrap my head around the level of fucked-up this asshole really is.

His smirk reaches his eyes. “A life for a life. He ruined mine and then paid for it with his. He freed me, and I want you all to experience that freedom, which is why I took the lives of those women, women whose bodies you use to build your evil empire on.” He grinds his jaw, glaring at the side of Mira’s face like he’s about to rip into it. “Men are weak when it comes to women. Even Adam fell because he was seduced.” Mira visibly shivers as he drags the tip of the knife up to her temple, his nostrils flaring. “Women like her have the power to ruin a man, to let him fall from grace and rob him of any chance at eternal life.”

He’s shaking, angry, and I know I’m running out of time. Mira’s whimpers grow louder, her shoulders trembling, tears pouring down her pale face.

I straighten my arms, my finger firmly placed on the trigger. But she’s too close. I can’t risk taking a shot and hurting her.

A shadow by the window catches my eye, but I try to keep Micah’s attention on me. “Let her go, and we can sit here all day and talk about whatever the fuck it is you want to talk about.”

He ignores me, staring at Mira as if she’s the holy grail he needs to ruin. “I’ve committed a sin against my flesh by desiring her.” The tip of his knife presses against her temple. “She’s constantly in my head. She’s always there, tempting me, seducing me. She has to repent. She has to pay for her sins.”

“Micah, hurt her, and I swear to God, I will kill you fucking slowly.”

“I don’t fear pain,” he murmurs like he’s in a trance, a dream, the knife glistening against her delicate throat with deadly intent. “I only fear eternal damnation, and I will not let her be my Eve. I will not fall from grace as Adam did. No woman is worth that price, no matter how beautiful.” His jaw tightens, and he bites into his lower lip, crimson seeping from Mira’s skin as he drags the blade down the side of her face, slowly cutting her flesh. Mira’s muffled screams fill the mausoleum, slamming against granite, and I’m teetering on the edge of fucking madness.

“No!” I yell, blood gushing from the grotesque gash of his blade, cutting her from her temple, down the side of her cheek, to her jaw. She’s sobbing, screaming, her whole body shivering, and I want to run to her and kill this motherfucker, but the fear of what he might do next keeps my feet planted on the ground.

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