Page 82 of A Twist of Poison

With both hands I ripped the remaining clothing from his top half off, the material hanging limply by his sides as I glared at the unmarred flesh on his chest. Knowing my eyes were twinkling in delight and using the same sharp pointed blade as what I’d used on his—I glanced down—stump, I jumped up and kicked him over the bloody area, hard.

I gripped his shoulder carving names into his chest, each one representing him perfectly. Paedophile. Nonce. Cunt. Rapist. Abuser. Groomer.

His cries were the sweetest sound. Blood dribbled from multiple parts of his body that was now scarred with who he really was.

Puke spilled from his mouth in an unending torrent. This was well deserved, but I’d had my fun with him. Roughly grabbing his hair, I looked him in the eyes that were filled with hate and pain.

“Let’s hope reincarnation isn’t real in your case,” I commented. I slid the knife from one ear—blood spilled over my hand like a waterfall—and I continued dragging it across his throat to the other ear.

A few moments later, his head weighed heavily in my hand as the lights went out. I shoved away from him as his dead body slumped over.

Then, I turned to the older man.

I smirked, making my way to the corner where he’d been gagged and tied. Ripping the material from his mouth, I allowed him his words, for the moment.

“Son,” he said sternly. He’d never really been my dad, and I’d never really been his son, so that tone didn’t work with me at all. Seeing the resolve in my eyes, his hardened in response, and I knew he’d realised begging for his life wouldn’t work.

I shifted to Texas. “Mind if I borrow your knife?”

Texas passed it to me with no questions asked. Holding mine and his in separate hands, I smiled at the sperm donor and slammed both of them down into his thighs, cutting through muscles like butter until I felt them hit the bone.

Calmly I stood back up leaving them in place. He couldn’t remove them; his hands were secured. Tears ran down his face in tune with the beautiful sounds of his raw agonising pain.

I felt all my brothers at my back, their energy surrounded me. They mentally cheered me on and stood metaphorically by my side. I’d never been more grateful to have found a place where I belonged with them, where I was never side-lined. My opinions mattered.

“It’s a shame it’s come to this,” I told Mark. My tone was thick with sarcasm. Twisting the knives round as they widened in his flesh, I cut through more muscles and tendons as his blood flowed freely. It must be excruciating. “You dabbled in places that should have been firmly off limits, didn’t you?”

He garbled a noncommittal answer. This man didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for involving himself with underage children and unwilling humans, sampling them, using them up and training them before sending them off to their owners, all to line his pockets.

Not so nicely, I pulled the knives from his thighs, throwing Texas’ one to the side as I palmed mine. Shoving up the sleeves of his white shirt that was already spattered in dirt and blood, I made a slow deep gash from his inner elbow following it to his wrist where I then slashed across twice in a criss-cross motion, repeating on the other side. The blood pooled underneath him, but he’d still got time thanks to the incredible human body working overtime, trying to keep him alive.

“Worthless piece of shit,” he murmured from his bloodied mouth, but loud enough that we all heard. I felt, more than I could see, the others tense behind me.

I stroked the sweaty hair on his head condescendingly, which he shook off but moaned in pain from the sudden action. His body shut down, bit by tiny bit. “Bad luck. You’d never make it as a motivational speaker.”

I wiped my knife on my trousers and flipped it closed, pocketing it. I took a mini step back. Sliding my hand into my pocket, I threaded my fingers through my knuckle dusters. A bloodthirsty grin slid to my face.

My fist flew and landed a direct hit to his nose crunching under the strength I put behind it, and blood spurted. His noises spurred me on as I rained down, blow after blow onto his entire body and face, my knuckles and hand taking a battering, I felt no pain. I gave back every blow that he’d inflicted on my growing body, every kick he’d subjected me to. He received them all back tenfold.

Pulling myself away, I gazed at the disfigured body. I licked the blood from my lips, not sure whose it was. I shook off the dusters, letting them clatter to the floor.

Grabbing the gun that’d been hanging from my back pocket in the holster, I lined it up and swiftly pulled the trigger, putting a bullet between his eyes. The ache within me lifted, knowing he could no longer walk in this world.

I panted in exertion, my chest heaving. I was covered head to toe in the same DNA that ran through me but I felt fucking heady.

Movements filtered through. I was oblivious to how much time had passed as I noticed the clean-up crew were already here to get rid of all the evidence I’d created, they must have been on standby.

Drew joined me, watching as we oversaw their job. We didn’t do it often, but it was jarring how easily they could wipe away every trace of what occurred within this room.

You shouldn’t worry about those people who can physically harm you, you should be terrified of those who know how to discreetly and easily get rid of a body like it was a normal everyday cleaning task. That shit’s next level.

“I forget how alike we are once you’re in that zone,” Drew announced, with no judgement. Never from him.

I just suppressed what he willingly displayed. He was right though, even the team and my closest brothers forgot sometimes. No one spoke, but I saw a few wincing, holding their crown jewels protectively.

Chapter36

Milla

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