Chapter Seven
Noah
My veins burned.My lungs expanded as my racing heartbeat was fueled with fire.
I wanted to see blood. I wanted to see his face bashed against the goddamn wall. It was utter madness inside my head. Black. Dark. All-consuming.
The way he spoke to her—his voice, his eyes, his goddamn breathing—he was intimidating her. And I hated it. It did something to my blood watching Sienna go from fierce and fiery to timid and threatened. This intense instinct to protect her raked up my spine, and it took control of every muscle, every move, every thought. It was insane, but it was too strong to ignore.
I felt his throat bob against my arm as he struggled to breathe. His eyes were wild and panicked, far from the asshole who tried to dominate the situation by acting like he was in control.
Sweat dripped down the side of my face, every muscle tense and aching to strike. The anger spread like molten lava through my insides and begged for blood.
My hands were soaked with his blood. His fucking penance. Drops of crimson percolated from his body onto the plastic sheet beneath his feet.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
I covered this entire room in plastic. Floors. Walls. Even the ceiling. I made sure I wasn’t restricted in the ways I chose to draw my vengeance from his flesh. After I was done with him, there would be no trace that this fucker ever lived. My wrath would erase his existence.
His face was unrecognizable. Cuts and bruises bloomed on his skin. One eye was swollen shut, yet he still didn’t look like the devil I knew he was.
I sat in the corner, watching him, relishing the sight of him hanging from the ceiling. The heavy chains around his wrists blinked under the fluorescent light—all shiny and fucking new. I wanted his blood to be the only thing that tainted these chains. It would be my most sacred keepsake, a reminder of what he took from me and how I extracted payment from his veins.
Finding him, hunting him, taking the pound of flesh owed to me was what kept me from drowning. Fantasizing of how I’d make him bleed, how his screams would sound mixed with the rumble of my rage, it kept me from submerging myself in the emptiness this man’s evil and heinous actions left behind.
It took me months to find him. Days, hours, minutes of thirsting for this exact moment. Finally, it had come, and it tasted so much better than I ever could have imagined.
Revenge.
Atonement.
The apex of my vendetta to find the devil and destroy him.
I spent countless nights thinking of how I’d take his last breath from him. How long I’d let him suffer. Some nights I killed him the second I found him by tearing his heart out with my bare fucking hands. Other nights I’d make him suffer, make him plead and beg for death.
But now that I had him, staring into the eyes of the demon who played God with my life, I wasn’t sure how I wanted him to descend into hell.
Spending an eternity burning was a merciful fate for him, which was why I wanted to make sure I got my fill of his torture.
“My dad will figure it out.” He spat out a mouthful of blood. Snot and spit mixed and dangled from his chin. “He’ll know it was you who killed the only son he has left.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.” His breathlessness didn’t hide his thick Russian accent. “He’ll find you. Find everyone close to you and massacre the whole lot.”
“Thanks to you,” I wiped the blade of the knife across my knee, over and over and over again, “there’s no one left to find.”
“Oh, that’s right.” He smiled with bloodstained teeth and wicked intent. “That was a good day. Probably the best day of my life—the day I fucked-up yours. An eye for an eye, right?”
The handle of the knife swerved between my fingers. A roar ripped from my throat as I threw the blade, silver steel slicing through his flesh and lodged in his upper thigh.
His scream tore through the noise inside my head, tempting my rage into wanting more. I stood, glaring at the piece of shit whose blood turned from a drip to stream down his legs and lapping onto the plastic.
I stepped closer, pulling a matchbox from my pocket. “Killing you has been the only thing that’s kept me alive this long.”
“Flattered,” he bit out, jaw clenched as he fought against the pain.
“I’d like to repay you for the motivation by preparing you for hell.” I lit the match, and with one eye open his gaze followed the flame. His split upper lip curled in a snarl, and I could practically smell his fear through the metallic stench of his cursed blood.