Page 67 of Make Me Beg (Rich Demons of Darkwood 2)

My dark persona slipped for a moment when I saw just how badly she was ruined. Her eyes were staring up at me listlessly, and I could tell that her soul was broken, in a way that I'm sure it had never been before. Just by looking at her, I could see there wouldn't be a way back for her after this. She’d already been beaten down too much before tonight. She didn’t have enough in her to get past the horror she'd been experiencing for who knows how many days.

His mother was so still that I actually wasn’t sure she was still alive. But when I reached down to check her pulse, I could feel the faint flutter of her heart beating raggedly.

I’m sure she was wishing she was dead though.

I untied her hands and slipped the blanket over her so at least she didn't have to be exposed anymore, knowing she needed medical attention right away.

"I'm sorry," I murmured before the mask slipped back on, and all I could feel was the desire to make him hurt.

"Well, you got me. What are you going to do with me?" he asked calmly, not seeming afraid at all. Remington still had a gun pointed at his father, and I knew he was just itching to pull it. But this man deserved a far less easy death than a bullet hole.

He needed to suffer.

I just wasn't sure how far I could go in front of Remington. Once I showed that part of myself, there would be no going back. It would be hard to argue that I wasn't the monster that they said I was all this time.

Remington seemed to make the decision for me, though, because while keeping a careful eye on his father, and his gun raised, he strode over to the bed and grabbed some of the black rope that I hadn't noticed was hooked to the bottom of the bed.

“You're going to die, Senator,” Remington said mockingly. “But we’re going to make it hurt first.”

Remington walked over to his father, presumably to tie him with the rope, and his father lunged towards Remington as soon as the gun was lowered. I huffed out a sigh of annoyance and then shot at his leg. Not enough for him to bleed out or anything like that, but enough to get his attention.

He howled like the pampered superstar that he was. You could guarantee that if I was shot, I wouldn't be crying. It was only getting publicly humiliated by the four guys I was starting to like that seemed to bring on the waterworks.

The Demon had made sure that physical pain didn't phase me.

While Remington's father was sniveling over his leg, Remington quickly and efficiently tied his father's arms and legs and then threw him to the floor.

"You're pretty good with knots," I commented, a little bit of inappropriate heat blooming inside of me thinking about him tying me up.

He winked at me, a slight smile on his lips that disappeared when his mom suddenly groaned from the bed.

"Go help her," I told him softly, and he looked a bit torn. I understood that feeling. Revenge and vengeance were such powerful emotions that they often blocked out everything else.

"It's okay. I've got it," I told him. Remy had pulled out his phone and started to type on it.

“We have medical staff on call. They’ll come straight here.”

"Get your mom up there, and then you can come back,” I gently told him, and he nodded and went over to the bed where his mother was now whimpering.

Remington's father was also whimpering, and honestly, it may have been one of the most pathetic things that I'd ever seen.

Remington scooped up his mom and headed out the door.

Me? I pulled out the knife tucked into my harness and slowly walked over to him, making sure his attention was on me the whole time. He was barely bleeding, so I knew the bleached white pallor he had going had nothing to do with blood loss, and everything to do with wondering what I was going to do next.

The Demon had taught me well. An important part of torture was the psychological factor. Your victims needed to be wondering the whole time what fresh hell you were going to bring upon them next.

With how heightened their emotions and adrenaline were while being tortured, it was most effective to be more exaggerated and slower in your movements. It just made it worse for them.

I crouched down next to him and then took the knife and trailed it down his cheek, nicking the skin along his jawline. He whimpered again.

“You know, Senator, you would think that a man in your position would've learned to stop underestimating people a long time ago. It really would've helped you out in this situation, wouldn't it have?"

"I have money," he cried out. "You can have all of it."

I chuckled to myself and pulled out my phone, using the link that I had to get into all of his hacked accounts. I turned the phone around and showed him all of his bank accounts and watched as he panicked even more.

"I think the correct statement is thatIhave all of your money," I told him with a dark chuckle.

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