Page 84 of Insatiable

The receptionist doesn’t ask me if I’m okay as I storm past the desk and head for the elevator. A couple get in on the second floor, but they keep to the corner of the small metal box, far away from me – a man covered in blood with an ammunition belt on full display.

I think my lip is cut; it stings a little.

My steps are clumsy and unbalanced as I get off the elevator, the bright lights making me squint and shield my eyes with a flat hand.

When I reach our rooms, I send Stacey a text that I think might be illegible, and when no response comes, I ignore my own room and sit outside hers, entertaining myself on my phone.

The first clip I have saved is from our last holiday to Greece. I watch the video from the karaoke bar, us on the balcony, another of Stacey sunbathing and me zooming in on her face – to her tanned, freckled skin. One she recorded of us holding hands and walking along the sandy beach. I pause the clip when she kisses my cheek, studying the smile on her face, which matches mine.

Videos upon videos, images upon images haunt me, yet I can never delete them.

I fucking hate myself for opening the file. I usually have it locked and securely hidden from prying eyes. It’s torturous, the way it makes me feel. I’ve struggled with emotions since I was a kid. I felt alive for the first time when I had Stacey, and now everything within me is black.

I’m dead inside.

The thumb I’m using to swipe through the pictures is crusted with blood. Every single image stabs a hole in my already hollow chest; I want so desperately to jump back into that reality, to hide from the person I’ve become. But it doesn’t exist. She’s not the same Stacey from then, and I’m definitely not the same Kade either.

I scroll through our messages, all the way up to some of the first ones we exchanged.

Our first picture together: me asleep with my arms wrapped around her, from when she accidentally stayed the night. She’s smiling at the camera, the usual middle finger up. The caption makes the corner of my mouth lift, even though it shouldn’t.

You snore so loud, asshole.

We were kids blinded by emotions.

We had everything. And she fucked it all up.

Killing high-profile people, dealing with drug lords, drinking a ridiculous amount of alcohol, beheading and disembowelling, and even walking into a gang’s territory to unleash hell I can deal with – but not a cheat. Not a fucking liar who made me think they were someone to me when they weren’t.

How anyone could look someone in the eye and tell them they loved them, only to go fuck someone else hours later is beyond me.

I’ve been sitting outside Stacey’s hotel room for two hours now, a lot more spaced out than planned. Maybe it’s the joint I smoked ten minutes ago that was packed with green, or maybe I’m just tired – that seems like a strong possibility.

Or maybe the coke from that MC gang was dodgy, and I’m sparkled from tampered drugs.

I don’t want to go into my room. If someone survived and followed me back, I need to be on alert. They might go into Stacey’s room.

Another death on my hands won’t be an issue.

I like killing people who deserve death. It gives me great pleasure to watch the light go out in their eyes as they take their last breath.

It’s only two in the afternoon, and I’ve already killed at least sixty people and earned one hundred and fifty grand. Stacey would be disgusted with me if she knew.

She hasn’t responded so I can only assume she’s asleep.

Good. I might say something I’ll regret while I’m fucked like this. You’d think taking uppers, I’d be in a great mood, but I feel like I could noose myself. I wouldn’t though – that would leave a mess behind, and no one needs to deal with that shit.

Would she care if I died?

I’m not afraid – if it happens, it happens, but a part of me would want to know how she’d feel. Regretful? Sad? Relieved? Would I see tears on her cheeks like I did on the jet?

A flash of her on her knees before me has my head dropping back to the door, my traitorous dick annoyingly twitching. I want to slap it.

I can still feel her lips tight around my cock, see her tears sliding down her face from choking, and the way she swallowed every drop of my cum. It’s driving me fucking insane. I was seconds from being inside her, and I would’ve been if not for fucking Barry. I’ve never wanted to kill my assistant before. He does my head in most the time, but never have I pictured him dead.

I even wanted to hit Base when he said she was hot.

She makes me more dangerous than I already am.

---