Page 50 of Godless Creatures

Chapter 21

Psycho

Itracked empty corridors, sticking to the shaded alcoves supplied by the overcast night, my pulse beating to the drum of my ever-growing anger.

Even with my large frame, my movements were smooth and fluid. With the elixir on board, I was virtually undetectable. Micah had left a vial for emergencies. To me, this was the definition of an emergency—to impose reasonable justice on those who forgot their place.

I slipped through the crack of the door to hide in the corner of the room, draped in darkness. The only sound was the click of the lock bolting shut.

The decrepit cesspit of an inmate jerked upright in bed, shank clasped tightly in his hand, the blunt blade shaking ever so slightly.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

“Who the fuck is there? Who would dare come into my room?”

My shoulders rolled back and muscles tensed as I stretched to my full height, neck cracking from left to right.

“Now, Walter, is that any way to welcome a guest?”

Walter’s eyes widened on my hidden figure. Impressively, his tone remained hard and unrelenting. “Psycho. What the fuck, man? I was sleeping.”

I stalked forward as my blood heated at the inevitable hunt. I was a predator, my eyes well and truly accustomed to the immediacy of my prey, his jugular pulsating to the supple beat of my own heart’s desires.

“When I arrived here, I had one rule. One request. Do you remember what that was?”

Walter stood, his instincts identifying the threat as his slow, dim-witted mind tried to catch up. “I…I haven’t done anything. I’ve kept away, haven’t interfered in any of your shit.” This dumb fucking asshole actually shrugged. “We’recool.”

My lips spread into a maniacal grin as I stared down into the eyes of this peasant. Before he could take another breath, I twisted his wrist with a hard jolt, a resounding snap echoing with the impact. His shank bounced to the floor as his hand lay limp at an odd angle.

Walter’s eyes burned with hatred as a loud grunt escaped his throat. I had to give him credit, he earned points for not squealing like a pig as his bones shattered. Even a few more, for having an ounce of practicality and not outright attacking me on instinct alone.

My fingers raised to circle his throat. “I had one rule. What did I say?” He shook his head (well, as much as he could with my hand cutting off his airway). “I told you never to touch what was mine.” Then I shoved him back on the bed.

Walter choked while scurrying back against the headboard, as far away from me as possible.

“I didn’t take shit. It wasn’t me. You’ve got the wrong guy.” I bent and twirled his shank between my fingers, admiring the handiwork and ingenuity. “I swear, Psycho. I haven’t touched anything.”

“Ah, but that’s a lie, isn’t it?You touched her.And she’smine.”

Realisation sparked in his features, his pale face now sweating profusely.

I knew what he saw when he looked into my dead, black eyes. I gave him a glimpse into my tarnished soul, an open gateway to the beast inside, manically laughing in the background of his misery.

“You roamed your unworthy hands over her body, placed your diseased tongue over her perfect, unblemished skin. You touched what ismine!”

Walter sobbed. “Fuck! I didn’t know. I’m telling you, Psycho, I didn’t know she was yours.” I ripped out his legs and dragged him over the edge of the bed, his body thumping hard against the ground.

Solid and unmoving, I stood over his whimpering form. The executioner had come to collect.

I live for this shit, die for this shit, fucking get hard for this shit.

“You will repent by saying her name. What is her name?”

“Dr Chaser.”

“That’s not it.”

I preened at the knowledge that I was one of the select few who knew my girl’s name—herrealidentity. I swear that lit some type of bliss in my stone-concrete organ of a heart.

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