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Chapter
Sixteen
HIM
Iclick on my flashlight and slip into the abandoned warehouse unseen.
A rat scurries away into the shadows as I hop inside. The walls are damp and moldy, and the smell of rot fills my nostrils. The abandoned machinery has already been taken over by rust. As I take a few steps forward, my boot disturbs a pile of rubble, creating an unexpected noise that echoes throughout the warehouse.
I hear someone stir, and then try to scream. I smirk.
He’s awake.
Moving further inside, I make my way to a room at the back, which appears to have been an old office. The door creaks open as I push it and go in. Flipping the switch, a bulb flickers on and casts a dim light around the room. Colton thrashes against his restraints, desperate to escape, but the zip ties on his wrists and ankles do a fine job of keeping him in place.
I turn off my flashlight and take a seat in the chair across from him, studying his face. He stares at me, his blackened eyes wide and clouded with fear. Despite this, it seems I haven’t completely broken him yet. He mumbles something, his words made unintelligible by the cloth tied around his head. I stand and remove the gag before going over to a desk nearby with a small wooden box atop it.
He greedily sucks in a breath before asking, “Why are you doing this? Who are you?!”
“I already told you.” I pluck the pliers from the box and turn around. His face pales as his eyes flit from the tool, to me, and back again. “You have to pay for fucking with what’s mine.” Slowly, I move toward him, taking my time to savor his fear.
He tries to scramble away, but the chair has him pinned. “I didn’t do anything!” His forehead is slick with sweat, his hair a greasy mess.
His gaze is wide and unblinking as I grab his chin and turn his face up to mine. His skin is clammy under my grip; the fear radiating from him is almost palpable. “Don’t play dumb,” I say, grabbing one of his fingers on his right hand—before snapping it with a sickening crunch.
His scream pierces through the silence of the room. I roll my eyes, stuffing the gag back into his mouth. Crouching down, I work the pliers underneath the nail of his broken finger. His teary eyes meet mine, full of anger and fear. I return his emotions with a smirk, chuckling as I grip the nail.
And then tear it from the nailbed.
“That’s four,” I state.
Again, he screams, blood blooming from his finger and dripping onto the cold, cracked concrete. I release him and stand back, crossing my arms nonchalantly as he writhes in agony. His muffled sobs are pathetic; I so want to end him right here and now, but my Little Finch has a promise to fulfill.
I rip out the gag and go to return the pliers to the box when he spits, “You’re a fuckin’ psychopath! Goddamn masked fucking freak!”
“You should know,” I counter, putting the tool inside the box before closing it. “Glass houses and all that.”
“Mia’s mine,” he hisses. “I saw her first.” He licks his dry lips, his gaze venomous. “You won’t get away with this. I swear to God?—”
I rush towards him, gripping the collar of his shirt and slamming him against a wall. He yelps as his head knocks into an exposed bolt, throwing him for a loop.
“You’re so goddamn pathetic,” I say, observing the sticky blood that leaks from his skull. “Do you think you scare me? You know nothing about me.”
He scowls, his lips trembling as he pants. “Release me, and I won’t tell a soul. I promise.Please.”
I lift an eyebrow in amusement at his sudden plea for mercy. “You forget I know who you are—and what you’ve done,” I reply icily, my grasp on him loosening. “I know about all the girls in your closet. Literally and figuratively.” He gulps, confirming the information I’ve gathered. “I’m the one with the bargaining power here, Colton Avender. So be a good boy and behave until I come back.”
He nods numbly as I shove the gag back into his mouth and shut off the light.
“Nice to know we can come to an understanding,” I say as I step away, casting one last glance before striding out of the room and slamming the door behind me.
Christ, I fuckin’ hate that guy.
“The Fright Night Festival has changed their lineup, and it will now feature Syndrome of Rhyme instead. As you know, Helix Hollow pulled out last second. Anyway, I’ve gotten in contact with a couple of members of Syndrome, and?—”
I smile politely as David continues to talk on and on about the local band’s upcoming performance, unaware that I’m not the least bit enthused about what he’s saying. I’ve been trying hard not to seem too disinterested, but it’s becoming harder by the second.
“We also snagged Disco Moxie from Ohio for the third year in a row. You could say they’re a Fright Night Festival staple.”
