King
"You'll regret this!" Gary Phillips, the police chief of Brookhaven, Oregon, spits through clenched teeth.
I tilt my head, studying him through the eyeholes of my 'Call of Duty' mask. He dangles from the wall, stripped down to nothing but his underwear. Pale, flabby, weak—his chest heaves, streaked with blood from the cuts I've carved into his chest.
"You know," I drawl, my voice cold and mocking, "for a police chief, you'd think you'd hit the gym once in a while."
I press the tip of the blade against his sternum, just enough for him to feel it. His pupils dilate, terror clouding his already broken expression. That's what I've been waiting for. The fear. The desperation.
Soon, he'll be begging for his life, even though deep down, he already knows he won't leave here alive. I've made that more than clear already.
The blade glides lower, slow and precise, as I slice into him again. His skin splits easily, the blood welling up to bead at the surface before trickling down. The sight stirs something deep inside me—a dark, hungry satisfaction—but I push it down.
Not yet.
"Look at you," I mutter, disgusted. Sweat mingles with the dirt caking his skin, courtesy of the ditch I drove him into during the hunt. He trembles under the dim garage lights, every shaky breath a prelude to the inevitable.
Phillips grits his teeth, trying to muster some weak attempt at defiance. "I-I don't know who you fuckers are," he stammers, his voice shaking. "But you won't get away-"
I plunge the knife into his chest, silencing him mid-sentence.
His scream rips through the room, a raw, primal sound that bounces off the concrete walls. Music to my ears, as always. I twist the blade slowly, savoring the wet squelch of flesh tearing beneath the pressure.
"That's it," I murmur, my voice a low growl. "Scream for me."
His body jerks uncontrollably, and I relish every spasm. The shoulder Phillips' shitty shot grazed earlier burns like hell, but the pain's a dull whisper compared to the adrenaline roaring through me.
This bastard deserves everything I'm giving him.
It's been a few days since Alyssa told us about him—how he took a bribe instead of saving her from Isaac. The rage hasn't left me since, twisting and turning inside me. I've barely been able to sleep, even when my sweet kitten begs me to lie beside her.
But tonight? Tonight, I'll sleep like a goddamn baby.
"No one's gonna miss you." My voice is venomous, distorted by the mask. "Your wife's probably relieved you won't make it home tonight. After all, you beat the shit out of her, don't you?" I slowly tilt my head, watching the panic flood his face. "That's your thing, right? Hurting women who can't fight back? Is that why you sent the ones who run from their abusers right back to them? Is that what gets you off, Gary?"
I pull the knife free, only to plunge it into a new spot, lower this time, closer to his gut. He screams louder now, and I chuckle darkly. "How does it feel to be helpless? To know no one will come to save you?"
I'm preparing for another strike when Gray's hand clamps down on my good shoulder, his grip firm but not forceful. His tone cuts through the haze of my rage.
"Stop," he says evenly, but there's an edge to it—like a leash being yanked. "He won't be any good to us dead."
I exhale slowly, forcing my boiling fury to simmer just beneath the surface. He's right—we need answers first. But every part of me is screaming to finish the job now, to make sure the son of a bitch never harms another woman again.
He deserves to die a slow, torturous death.
And I'll deliver it by the end of the night.
I drop the bloodied knife onto the tray beside me with a dull clang and turn, heading toward where Mason lingers in the shadows.
My boots scrape against the concrete floor as I slump into a chair, the weight of my adrenaline crash starting to set in. The burn in my shoulder flares hot and intense, but I force myself to ignore it.
Mason leans against the wall, his arms crossed, his eyes meeting mine behind his white mask. "She's gonna lose her mind when she sees that," he mutters, jerking his chin towards my shoulder
I roll my shoulder, grunting, "I know."
But she'll understand. If there's one thing I know about our girl, it's that she gets me.
She knows I protect what's mine. And after what she told us, there was no way I wasn't going after this motherfucker.
Mason sighs, pulling a small case from his jacket pocket. "Better get it wrapped up," he says, flicking it open. The strong scent of antiseptics fills the air as he slips on a pair of gloves, carefully helping me lift my hoodie.
"You don't have to do this," I mutter. "I've got it."
This isn't the first time he's patched me up but now that we're with Alyssa—seeing each other naked and sleeping in the same night every night...I can't fucking explain it, but it feels different somehow.
"I know," he replies, but doesn't stop. He peels off my shirt, the blood-soaked fabric sticking to my skin.
My jaw tightens as he rinses the wound with cold water from a bottle, then cleans and dresses it. His movements are quick but precise, and I can't do anything but sit here and watch.
The harsh echo of Gray's voice snaps my attention to the other side of the garage. Phillips hangs there, shaking, his face pale beneath all the blood and sweat.
Gray stands in front of him, his devil mask obscuring his expression, but I can feel the rage radiating from him.
I watch him like a proud uncle. I'm not sure if it was just because he needed to escape his wife or he's really trying to step back into his role as Alyssa's big brother, but I was surprised when he wanted to tag along tonight.
He never gets his hands dirty anymore, but I have a feeling he will tonight.
"I'm only going to ask you this once," Gray says, his voice carrying a calm malice that makes the air feel heavier. "And if I were you, I wouldn't fucking lie to me. Who was everyone working at the 18th precinct the day you took Isaac Carter's bribe?"
Phillips’ face twists in a mix of fear and recognition. "Seriously? This is about some shit that happened over two years ago? What's the girl to you? You the one fucking her now?"
The words barely leave his mouth before Gray grabs a hammer from the table. Without hesitation, he swings, the blunt impact landing squarely in Phillips' crotch.
The howl of pain that follows is visceral, making both Mason and me wince in unison.
"Damn," Mason mutters, shaking his head. "That's gotta hurt."
Gray doesn't flinch. "Not the answer I was looking for. Try again."
Phillips wheezes, his face contorting with agony as he forces out a broken laugh. "What do you want me to do? List them? So you can go after my people? Do this sick shit to all of them, too?" He spits blood and glares at us. "Fuck you!"
Gray tilts his head, tapping the hammer against his palm like he's considering his next move. Then, without a word, he swings again, harder.
Phillips' scream echoes through the garage, and I smirk beneath my mask.
I've definitely taught him a thing or two.
"Is having your dick crushed a kink of yours too?” Gray sneers. "Since you don't seem too affected by what I'm doing, why don't I invite my enforcer back over here?"
Phillips’ eyes widen in panic, his voice cracking as he pleads. "No! Keep that sick fuck away from me!"
It sounds more like a command than a plea, which makes me chuckle with dark amusement.
Does this asshole really think he's in any position to make demands?
Pushing off the chair, I stride over, grabbing the hammer from Gray's hand. He looks at me sternly. "Get him to talk, but don't kill him. Not tonight. I have something else in mind."
"Sounds like a plan, prez."
Cracking my neck from side to side, I turn my attention back to Phillips. The hammer is a solid weight in my hand, and I take a step closer, letting the shadow of my presence loom over him.
Phillips whimpers, his eyes darting between the hammer and my masked face. "What are you going to do with that thing, you freak?"
I lean in, my voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "Don't worry. We've got all night to play. You laughed when she begged for help. Now it's our turn to laugh while you scream like the little bitch you are."