Page 63 of Hunter

I grinned, moving to my feet when he started for the door. I grabbed the back of his shirt when he reached for the doorknob.

“Where do you think you’re going? The fun hasn’t even begun yet.”

“P-please.”

I shook my head.

Fucking pathetic.

“Did she beg you?” I asked quietly.

He looked at me, confused, before it cleared away when he realized who I was talking about.

“Did she beg you?” I asked again, cupping his bruised cheek.

He flinched, and I tightened my hold on him.

“Don’t make me ask again,” I said.

He cried and shook his head. “N-No. She was quiet. Please, just let me go. I won’t go near her again.”

I nodded. “You’re right. You won’t go near her again.”

I pushed him to the floor, and he lay there in a crumpled heap, crying. I wondered just how many girls he had done this to in the past. Drunk or not, he had seemed confident that he would get away with it.

Micah walked up silently behind me.

“What an ugly mug,” he commented, looking at the bastard. “Did you do that to him?”

“Of course,” I answered. “Don’t you recognize my artwork?”

The pathetic piece of shit cried louder.

“You’re right,” Micah said. “I see it now.”

I laughed, then turned on the man and got to work.

* * *

We movedhim to the cremation center, along with his wallet.

The body was now chopped in pieces to make for easier transport, and there was a cleaning crew at the bastard’s apartment, ensuring everything would be spotless once an investigation occurred.

And there would be an investigation, no doubt about it.

I would just need to make sure the police didn’t realize I lived in the same building.

It had been a risk, doing this so close to home.

I could have made it look like an accident, but I had been too blinded by rage to think clearly, and it was too late now.

Instead, we were going to make it look like he took off without telling anyone.

Micah was looking into the fucker’s background, using his contacts, and we were going to make sure there were no traces of us left in the trail.

I watched as the flame ate the corpse, feeling the kind of numbness I had felt ever since I helped Micah kill our old man and run away as a teen.

Sure, he deserved it, but there was never anything pure about killing, and that darkness always took hold of you, never letting go once you got your hands dirty.

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