“Don’t fucking answer him.” My hiss snapped her head in my direction, but her desperation wouldn’t soften my shoulder. “Don’t lie to this fucking psycho.”
“Please!” Tristan’s shake begged for her attention, the cry of a child, but Birdie’s eyes stayed glued ahead. “I just need a chance and then—”
“She made her fucking choice.” My snarl froze the room. “She made her choice the second she met you. And then she made her choice again when she fucked me.”
Finally, something shifted. When that hurt crossed his face, the knife at her throat loosened again. Tristan looked down to his victim, to the divinity we both worshipped, but Birdie’s eyes wouldn’t budge. In his grip, her shoulder softened. In his grip, she begged me to be gentle with him, begged me to not soak her with blood.
In the face of death, she still felt sorry for the freak.
“You what?” Golden eyes wouldn’t leave me, but guilt twisted her face when those notes of betrayal filled her head. A snarl in her ear shut her eyes, and when his fingers dug tighter into her arms, Birdie’s whimper made my stomach churn. “I dideverythingfor you,” he hissed. “I treated you like a queen and you’re still going to choose him?”
“Tristan, please.”
“Maybe I should have just called you a fucking whore and you would have been—”
“Get over your fucking self.” My hiss pulled his attention and loosened his grip. Our eyes locked, and the growl in my chest grew. “You think she picked me because I fucked her better?” My laugh sent a shiver over his system, forced his teeth to grind painfully. “She picked me because no one wants this pathetic shit.”
“Shut up.”
“Don’t get me wrong, though.” Another dark chuckle brought me closer, and the dog in my chest roared. “I’m sure the sex helped. She couldn’t even remember your god damn name after I fucked her.”
“Michael.”
“She was so busy moaning for me that she couldn’t even—”
“Shut up!”
I wouldn’t blink— not even when the fog took control. When the knife moved from her throat, I wouldn’t hesitate. For Birdie, I would never hesitate ever again. My body slammed into him at the first opportunity. When the beast was on top of him, when my fist slammed into his nose and brought a howl of pain, I couldn’t feel anything— not his teeth cutting through my knuckles and not the knife that sliced through my side.
Snarls tangled together as I grabbed for his wrist. His fist slammed against the side of my head. Birdie’s scream was the only thing that pushed me forward. My hand locked around his wrist, and after slamming his hand to the ground twice, the knife finally slid across the floor. Then, everything shifted again. I released him only long enough to grab the blade, and all struggle stopped. My spinning head slowed by the time I got back on top of him, by the time I lined the blade up with his throat.
Make him scream.
Make him beg.
Make him bleed.
“Don’t!” The scream cut through the fog, but Birdie’s warm touch wouldn’t pull my attention away from the animal beneath me. “Michael, don’t!”
The only thing that stopped me was the twisting of his face. Tristan’s features washed with relief, and the sickness came again. Even when she was trying to protect me, Tristan made it into a love confession. My knife sunk further into his throat, and another guttural scream tore through his body.
Fucks like this would never stop.
Fucks like this didn’t deserve to live.
Fucks like you.
“Please, Michael.”
Do it.
“He’s not worth it,” Bridget choked, her hand sliding down my arm. “Please.”
“Why not?” I hardly recognized my own voice. I hardly recognizedanythingas the blade drew another drop of blood. “What the fuck has he done that would earn any mercy?”
He’s not you.
When her soft touch relaxed my shoulders, I might have been able to let go. For Birdie, I’d do anything. But when that awful smile came beneath me, I couldn’t do much of anything. Blood-soaked teeth filled my vision, and when the darkness came, nothing else mattered. The rot had taken control again.