“No, Iris. I’m not going to hurt you.” I duck down to her eye level, but she doesn’t meet my gaze. “No one is going to hurt you anymore. I want you to stay here and wait for an hour.” I take the golden Rolex from my father’s wrist and hand it to her. “When an hour has passed, leave the room and find a cell phone to call the police. No one else will bother you.”
She nods shakily.
“Don’t even think about coming out before then,” I snarl venomously. “Or else.”
She yelps and pure terror transforms her features. Her expression will be seared in my memory forever, but I know this is for the best. Guilt jabs my gut for having to scare her, but it’s for the best. I need her to follow my rules.
I use all my strength to hoist Dad’s body and stand him in front of the eye scanner to release me.
“Remember what I said, Iris,” I say as I drop his body and use it to wedge the door open. “Give it one hour before leaving. Promise?”
“I promise.” Her dirty hair hangs over her face. “Mister?”
“What?”
“Thanks for saving me,” she mumbles despite her fear.
Maybe we could take her with us. I dismiss the thought before I can consider it.
I should kill Iris. I’m not a professional killer, but I know leaving a murder witness behind is rule number one of what not to do, but I can’t bring myself to hurt her. That’s the difference between my father and me.
“You’re welcome,” I say. “And if you tell anyone about what happened, I’ll hunt you down and make sure the same thing happens to you, okay?”
I hate myself for it, but a threat could be the surest way to buy her silence.
She nods. “I won’t tell anyone.”
“Good.” I smile, then tap my wrist. “Start the clock.”
Before I leave, I spit on my father’s body.
He can rot in hell.
* * *
I make my way back through the basement to the party... only it’s already over.
Holy shit. My mouth falls open at the scene as I look around in horror.
The six guests lying around the room are in varying stages of undress. A man with a bulging belly and a back full of gray hair lies on his front like a beached whale. Another has his stomach ripped open and his intestines wrapped around his neck like a scarf. Next to him, a guy is crouched with a zebra tail coming out of his ass and multiple stab wounds to his back. On his left, a man’s throat is slit, and his trousers are around his ankles. Both his testicles are covered in deep slashes, but the two who catch my attention the most are the two men Clemmie is still attending to.
A weird noise comes from one’s throat like he’s choking on his blood. He should be coughing it up, but he doesn’t move. The white marble floor around him is covered in blood and looks like a contemporary art painting.
Clemmie laughs. Her beautiful, sweet laugh. She wags her finger at the choking man in disapproval. “You never said please before fucking me.”
She pulls down his pants and grabs his wilted cock, grasping it hard in her hands. It turns red like an angry wrinkled raspberry.
“Clemmie,” I call.
Every man watching this would want to hold their balls and run, but not me.
“August!” Her face lights up with glee. She’s so happy to see me. She always is. “Watch this.”
She takes the knife in her spare hand, holds the blade to his cock, then starts cutting through. The flesh splits as his blood sprays and covers her pretty corset. The guy pales as his eyelids flutter. He’s not dead yet but will be soon.
“It’s harder than I thought,” she mutters in frustration as she hacks his penis. “I thought it’d be easier because he couldn’t keep it hard for long.”
I watch, transfixed, as she saws through his penis like it’s a piece of meat. My own cock isn’t sure what to make of it. It winces at the thought of what’s happening, but Clemmie’s determination turns me on. She’s sexy without meaning to be.