A menacing smile twists my lips, and Ryland pales even further. His eyes dart to the left then the right, like there’s a way he can somehow escape his fate. Stepping forward, I grab the head of his now flaccid dick. My black leather gloves protect my hands from the mess he’s made, but the stench still reaches my nostrils.
“Wait, wait!” he says frantically, trying to wiggle away. “What are you doing?”
Ignoring him, I bring the knife up and rest it against his bare thigh, pressing down and letting the tip barely pierce his skin. A drop of blood appears. As a doctor, the sight of blood has never bothered me, but it’s never excited me like it does right now.
Ryland lets out a grunt of pain, his eyes flickering to the wound, to his dick, then back to me. “Y-you said you wouldn’t if I told you.”
It’s then that I lift my eyes to him. “I lied.”
The blade is sharp, so with just little force and a few sawing motions, it cuts through his dick until the appendage is left in my hand. The second he screams, loud and piercing, JW claps his gloved hand over Ryland’s mouth, muffling the irritating noise.
“Damn, that’s got to hurt,” JW notes with false sympathy.
I step to the side when blood begins gushing from between his legs. I grip his throat and cut off his air. He jerks and struggles against his bonds, but it does him not one damn bit of good. He’s tethered, just how I want him.
“Open his mouth,” I grunt to JW.
Removing his hand, he grips the sides of Ryland’s jaw. He fights it, but he’s no match against JW. Once his mouth is open a couple of inches, I shove the chopped off part of Ryland that has caused so much pain, into his mouth. Tears leak down his cheeks and distorted whimpers leave his throat. Smeared blood coats his lips and dribbles down his chin.
He starts gagging, but JW presses the back of Ryland’s head against his stomach and forces his mouth closed by his jaw. Sliding my knife back in its sheath, I grab the tape. I tear off a piece and slap it over his mouth before taking a step back.
What I’m left looking at should turn my stomach. It does the opposite. Watching Ryland, with his severed dick in his mouth, his chest heaving as pitiful sounds rumble from him, his old wrinkly body sweaty and pale, leaves me very fucking satisfied.
“He’s yours,” I tell JW and a wicked smile curves his lips.
I take a couple steps back, lean against the wall, and wait for JW to do whatever he’s going to do. He’s never been the type to draw things out, so he’s quick. With a muttered “Rot in hell,” and using his own knife, he slices deep across Ryland’s throat.
With blood still rushing from the fatal wound, JW pushes his chair back up to the desk, grabs the keyboard from the floor, and puts it back on the surface. When the authorities find his body, they’ll know what he was doing the moments before he died.
We leave through the back door, closing it behind us, and make the trek two blocks over where my Tahoe is parked.
The neighborhood is quiet. Most of the houses are dark, except for the porch lights. Even so, we don’t speak and keep to the shadows. We left my car behind an empty house. It was the perfect spot to stay out of view because the neighboring houses were so far away, and that part of the neighborhood was dark.
Popping open my trunk, I grab out my bag and JW does the same. We both strip down, put on clean clothes, and throw the old ones in the black plastic trash bag to be burned once we’re back in Malus.
JW’s phone buzzes as we close our doors.
“It’s from Emo.”
Keeping my lights off, I pull out from behind the house and start down the road while JW looks over the message from Emo.
“The girl’s name is Sophia Adams. He said she’s at home with her parents. She was taken nine months ago and kept for a week before they found her on the side of the road.” He stops and curses harshly. “She’s ten fucking years old,” he growls.
I grip the steering wheel tightly. A pounding starts in my ears as blood rushes through my veins. I want to go back and kill Ryland again, except this time draw it out and make it even more painful.
“She’s seeing a children’s psychiatrist. She has nightmares and suffers from agoraphobia. Her doctors have to come to the house to treat her because she gets hysterical when her parents try to take her places. Her doctor notes that over the last month she’s showing signs of improvements.”
He pauses for a moment, reading over what Emo sent. I glance over when he stays quiet and see the muscle in his jaw twitching.
“Sick fucking bastard,” he snarls. “His death was too Goddamn quick. He sodomized her. She had to have surgery to repair internal tears in her rectum.”
I snatch the wheel to the left and pull into a gas station. We’re several miles away down a strip of town that’s still somewhat active, so I don’t worry about being seen. My hands are shaking so badly that I can’t hold the wheel any longer. I close my eyes and try to calm the blazing heat roaring through my veins. My chest aches for the little girl and the nightmare she endured, knowing that week felt more like a year to her. I wish I could take away her pain, but I settle for knowing JW and I were the ones to make sure the bastard who hurt her won’t ever hurt another. Justice wasn’t served for my brothers and I tonight. It was served for a little girl named Sophia.
We’ll keep an eye on her for a while to make sure she continues to get the treatment she needs.
My phone rings, and I snap my eyes open to look at the screen. Judge. It’s late, too late for a random call.
“What?” I ask curtly. My voice is scratchy, so I clear my throat.