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In a flash, I stab the guy in the back of the neck. The small, sharp blade goes right through. I smirk at how it sinks in so easily. The motherfucker’s flesh is like butter for my sharpened Cyclone.
“Ahhh!” the man screams, reaching to his nape.
Trying to grab a hold of my knife.
“Not in this lifetime.” With one hand on his slimy shoulder, I pull Cyclone out of him.
Blood spurts out of the piece of shit before me, running inside his shirt.
Useless sack of shit that he is, he screams louder.
Amara sighs in the background. Her eyes are closed, but she sighs.
She’s alive, thank fuck.
Fortunately, Amara’s only neighbor, Sookie, works at a strip club. She’s far, far away. Won’t be here to hear his pathetic whining. Won’t call anyone over.
Yeah, we own a lot of cops and detectives. But there’s always the chance of a straight cop showing up.
I don’t plan on letting anyone spoil my fun. Or my interrogation.
His screams are louder when I stab him again in the same spot. The second time around, I’m far less merciful.
And I don’t stop there. I slide my knife lower between his shoulder blades.
My blade slices through the man’s shirt, exposing his pimpled back. I don’t gag—hardly ever do. I enjoy the sight of his blood so goddamn much.
His spine doesn’t get hurt in the process, obviously. Gotta keep the anonymous bastard awake and able to answer my questions.
He still screeches like the miserable loser he is. And I smile. My smirk widens into my signature, psychotic grin as I take my revenge.
That is until I reach his lower back. Out of fucking nowhere, the man turns quiet.
“I’m not done,” I growl.
Other than his labored breaths, he says nothing.
“Goddammit.” In a dumb, uncharacteristic move, I release my hold on him to lean over and check if his eyes are open.
Of course, he has to go and lose his balance. He’s about to topple over onto the floor. His dead weight will land right on top of Amara. He’ll crush my baby.
I’ll never let that happen. As fast as humanly possible, I slip my pocket knife out of him while renewing my grip on his shoulder. I loop the other arm around the stranger’s midriff, hauling him to my front.
“You’re done hurting her, asshole,” I hiss in his ear.
“Fuck off,” he grits out, his voice laced with agony.
I’m not in a generous mood, so I deliver more pain. My dress shoe connects to the side of his ankle, twisting and crushing it beneath my weight.
His mouth resumes his useless screams.
“You’re going to wake my sweet girl over here.” I slam my hand on his repulsive mouth. “I can’t have her witness our little game.”
Can’t allow her a glimpse into my world. I fell for Amara’s unhinged side first. An adorable, crazy woman that’s so much like me. The only girl who didn’t flinch at my psycho smile that sends most people running for their lives.
But again, I’m sure that even my firecracker must have her limits.
Over the last six months, Amara Grace Carmichael hijacked my heart. She has no idea, but she has. She and Killian take up the entire space in my rotten chest, and I won’t survive either of them leaving me.
