Page 11 of Merciless

“Nor is he,” JD quips before I storm around the couch. I think she’s been waiting long enough.

It’s time to turn the heat up and get the answers I need. I’d hate for her to think I’m going soft.

I glance down at myself as I move down the hallway, tracking the splatters of blood that cover my bare chest.

I’d hoped that allowing her to listen to another one of my guests begging for mercy might have given her a push to make this easy and blurt out her secrets.

But fuck. I’m glad it didn’t.

I do love a challenge. And something tells me that Alana is going to push me right to the edge of my sanity.

It’s been a while since someone really made me work for it.

Cracking my knuckles, I pause as I spot her purse on the dresser in the hallway, where Kane dumped it after he dragged her ass in here.

Undoing the clasp, I dig around inside until I find her cell.

I wake it up, and am unsurprised to discover seven missed calls from her husband.

“Nice try, asshole,” I mutter, shoving the thing in my pocket.

If I can’t hack into it later, I know a guy who can.

Pulling open the heavy door that leads to the basement, a rush of adrenaline shoots through my veins.

I love my house.

No, I fucking love my house.

I spent all my childhood gazing up at this dark, mysterious, and imposing building that looks over almost every inch of Harrow Creek.

At twelve years old, I told myself that one day I would own it. That I would restore it and bring it back to its former glory. That JD and I would move our asses in and embark on our future of ruling the town below with an iron fist, yet being fairer than my cunt of a father.

Part of that dream has come true.

I have the house. The world’s most annoying and messy roommate, and if all my work pays off, it shouldn’t be too long until I get control of the town.

Victor Harris’s days are numbered. And I have every intention of being the one who finally pulls the plug on his reign and his life.

And it will be a sweet as fuck day when that happens.

What I don’t need is a certain blonde getting in the way and stealing my attention from where it should be.

Hunger stirs within me as I descend the stairs to my most favorite part of this house.

The basement used to be this old, cold damp wine cellar, but since I took ownership of this supposedly haunted house, it’s been fully transformed.

Yes, it’s still cold and damp. But while the old wine cellar entrance and stairs are still accessible from the kitchen, there is a new secret doorway and a whole new extension that only a few know exists. It’s now outfitted to be one of the most secure prisons in the state. Hell, the country. No motherfucker is getting out of here unless they’re personally escorted or in a body bag. So far, only the latter has happened.

The chill in the air makes my skin prickle as I hit the bottom and make my way past the securely locked doors.

Everyone who is down here, for one reason or another, deserves their place in my cells. Some more than others, but I don’t like to discriminate, so they all get similar treatment.

Some even enjoy their time here. Like I said, they deserve their place, which means they deserve their punishment. They fucking well know it too.

It’s late, long past midnight. Some are probably sleeping. If I wasn’t so enthralled with watching Alana upstairs, I might have checked on my other guests. But right now, they don’t interest me. It’s not like they’re going anywhere. They’ll still be waiting when I get bored of playing with my new, little pet.

The sound of the locks disengaging vibrates through the concrete floor beneath me and the excitement that flutters inside me only intensifies.

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