Page 40 of Beautiful Revenge

I’ve barely gotten started, and he’s already a blubbering fucking mess. “Cold?” I ask, smirking at the pebbled goosebumps on his skin now that he’s stripped to his boxers.

He stares at me with equal parts hatred and fear as I continue to toy with him, barely touching him. I want him to have a flicker of hope he’ll get out of this alive before I take it away from him with excruciating pain.

“You know,” I start, opening and closing my knife so the sound reverberates throughout the warehouse. “I once read in a book that your skin being cold makes the pain worse. I think I’m ready to test that theory. What do you think, Dev? Think he’ll scream worse with the next cut than he did the one I made on his stomach earlier?” I toss the question over my shoulder, never taking my eyes off the target.

The ripple of anxiety that runs through his body tells me he’s not ready for the next part to begin. He never will be, but it’s going to happen regardless.

“I have a hundred bucks on him pissing himself with the first deep cut,” he snarks, and I smile.

“I’ll take that bet. But I think now that you’ve called him out on being weak, he’ll hold it until my knife touches his skin after that deep cut.”

“Bet,” Devon says. “And if I win, I get to fuck you while you’re covered in his blood before we burn this piece of shit to the ground with him in it,” he growls, and I smile.

“And if I win?” I ask, looking back over my shoulder at him.

He smirks at me. “Then I’ll wait until we get home and you’re all clean so we can fuck you together,” he teases, and I feel my heart beginning to race.

This adrenaline high is one of my favourite parts about killing, right after the justice I serve them.

“Win, Briar. Don’t let him have all the fun.” Dylan’s voice cracks the way it does when he wants me.

“Oh, I will,” I whisper, just for them to hear. “You’re not that big of a pussy, are you, Mr. Murphy?” I ask, raising my voice.

He screams behind the cloth, starting to shake as I step in front of him. “Yeah, I bet this will hurt.”

It’s the only warning I give before lifting my knife and stabbing an inch of it into his bicep, before ripping it back out.

His breathing gets heavy as he screams, but I can tell he’s holding himself back. Whether it’s to stop himself from losing control of his bladder, or to prove to himself he’s tough, I’m not sure. But if it’s the latter, he should have done that sooner.

“Dammit!” Dev hisses, and I smile back at him. “Bastard is holding it together better than I thought,” he mutters.

“You did call him out for being a pussy,” I retort, and he looks offended.

“I would never call him that. That’s an insult to your perfect kitty, princess.” He smirks, walking up to me and gripping my chin in a tight hold. “And the way it stretches so pretty to take us both?” I swallow as lust fills his gaze. “There’s a reason I never use it as a derogatory statement, Briar.”

He leans down, kissing me with a roughness that shoots sparks through my veins. My neck is turned at an angle so he can kiss me from behind while he dominates my mouth with his tongue.

Pulling back, he smiles down at me like the cocky asshole he is when he sees how breathless he makes me.

“God, you’re an asshole sometimes,” I mutter, smiling through the words, making him and Dylan both laugh.

“I’m your asshole, baby.” He kisses me once more before moving back to let me focus my attention on Ian.

“You’re so tense, Mr. Murphy,” I taunt, shaking my head as I play with my knife.

His eyes bounce between it and me, wondering what I will do next, before glancing at the blood dripping down his arm and onto his neck. He’s shaking with the effort it’s taking him to stay silent, and I’d admire it if he weren’t a soulless prick that deserves everything coming to him.

My gaze bounces around his body, wondering where I’ll poke him next. I want to start with a dozen or so shallow cuts before I unleash the monster inside of me.

Settling on his thigh, I pull my arm back, catching his gaze as I thrust it forward into his thigh.

“Scream for me!” I laugh, twisting the bit of the knife lodged in his leg before ripping it back out, never taking my eyes off his.

I watch as he tosses his head back, screaming against the gag, but I don’t miss the tears welling up in his eyes.

“Crying already?” I ask sweetly, dragging my knife in circles around the wound.

“We both lost,” Devon grumbles, and I sigh just as the smell of urine hits my nostrils, making me smile. “Oh, come on!” Dev whines.

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