Alyssa
"You're the reason I'm here," Chief Phillips sneers, his bloodshot eyes filled with hatred as he struggles to lift his head. The chains rattle with his feeble effort before his body slumps back against the wall like a broken puppet. "You stupid bitch! Tell them-"
The words die in his throat as King's knife slices clean across his chest. The cut is precise, shallow enough to hurt but deep enough to make sure he knows who's in control. Phillips lets out a guttural scream, the sound raw with pain.
I don't flinch, not even a little.
Even though that looked like it fucking hurt, I'm done feeling sympathy for monsters.
King tilts his head, his voice a low growl that hums with a deadly calm. "Watch your fucking mouth when you speak to her. That's the only warning you'll get."
Phillips gasps for air, his chest rising and falling as blood trails down his torso. His gaze shifts back to me, a flicker of desperation masked by a sneer. "I don't know what the fuck you told them, but I'm innocent. Tell them to let me go."
I can't help the bitter laugh that escapes me. "Innocent? Before or after you forced me back into the hands of my husband who you knew was abusing me? Who hit me right in front of you while you just stood there and laughed?" I step closer, my voice rising as my anger burns through any hesitation I might have had when I walked in here. "Tell me, Chief—was all of this worth the money?"
His face twists, emotions flashing too quickly to read before settling back into rage. "You really think these animals can protect you? Silas Carter is your husband's father, the man who gave him the hush money to give to me." His lips curl into a cruel smirk. "And let me tell you something, little girl. He's got enough cash and pull to wipe out this whole gang without even lifting a finger."
The pit in my stomach opens wide, swallowing me whole. Why hadn't I thought of Silas? Isaac's father, with his leering smiles and predatory glances that always made my skin crawl every time we were in the same room. I'd been so focused on Isaac and his snake of a mother that I'd completely forgotten about the man who bankrolled their lives.
Isaac has never had a good relationship with him, but desperation makes people bend over and give up all their morals. If Isaac feels cornered, he'll run to Silas, and that asshole won't hesitate to clean up his mess. Including killing all of us.
King steps forward, sensing the tremor of fear I'm trying to suppress. He crouches in front of Phillips, his presence cutting through my spiraling thoughts. "We still need that list, Gary," he says, his voice a velvet blade. "Are you finally going to give it up, or do you still need more convincing?"
Phillips barks out a hoarse laugh that ends in a wet cough. "Fuck you," he spits. "Do you really think this is the worst I've been through? I was in the fucking special forces. You're an amateur."
I'm guessing he still doesn't know who King really is because he's far from an amateur.
King's chuckle is a low, rumbling sound, dark enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. "I was hoping you'd say that."
He moves to the tool cabinet to the right of us, casually opening a drawer and sifting through its contents like he's deciding what wine to pair with dinner. Phillips turns his attention to me, his voice dropping to a hiss, though I'm pretty sure King can still hear him. "Even if I'm killed, all these thugs will either go to prison or die. Do you really want to join them?" When I just stare at him, he continues, "If you call the cops and tell them where they're holding me, I'll tell them you were coerced. You'll walk away clean. No jail time."
King doesn't even look up, but his laugh is razor-sharp. "Self-preservation doesn't suit you, Gary. If you really think she's gonna help you, you're more stupid than I thought." He straightens, holding out a gleaming pair of pliers in one hand.
What the hell is he planning to do with those?
Then, in an instant, he's behind me. His body presses against mine, his lips ghosting over the shell of my ear. "She's mine," he murmurs, his voice dark and possessive. He licks a slow trail up my neck, and I can't stop the moan that escapes me, loud and shameless. "And she's such a good fucking girl for me."
My knees nearly buckle as heat floods my body. This is definitely some kind of foreplay for him.
King cups my jaw, tilting my face up to meet his. His amber eyes burn, molten with sin and ownership. "Do you wanna do the honors, baby?"
The knife is cold in my hand as he holds it out to me.
"Yes," I breathe without hesitation.
His smirk is sinful behind the mask. He wraps his hand around mine, tightening my grip on the knife as he captures my lips in a searing kiss. "Don't hold back," he growls, his voice vibrating against my mouth.
I turn towards Phillips, the adrenaline roaring in my veins like a battle cry. My mind races—what if I cut too deep? What if I accidentally kill him too soon and ruin any chance we have of finding out the name of the female rookie that helped me when no one else would?
King shifts behind me, his hands sliding over my shoulders as his lips brush my ear again. "You're overthinking it, kitten." His touch slowly moves down, resting over my belly. A protective caress.
Phillips glares at me, but there's a smugness in his gaze that says he doesn't believe I'll go through with this.
Shit. I don't think I can either. I don't even know what I'm doing.
But one thing for sure is that I came here tonight to become stronger, to push past my fears and let go of my past self. So, I have to try, at least.
"Trust me. You can do this," King murmurs, his voice coaxing, patient. "Let me show you."
Phillips' eyes widen as King guides my hand forward, pressing the tip of the blade to the flesh of his cheek. I can tell he wants to jerk away, but he stays still, knowing even a small movement could make this so much worse.
"Wait! Don't-"
"Quiet," King growls, his tone slicing through the room like a blade of its own.
I feel the pressure increase as King pushes my hand, the blade sliding through skin with a sickening ease. Phillips screams again, tears and snot dripping down his face as we carve a "C" into his cheek.
The sound of his pain sends a thrill through me, unexpected but undeniable. My heart hammers against my ribcage as I watch the blood well up when King and I carve the next letter—"R". The cuts aren't deep but they're slow enough to ensure Phillips stays conscious through every second of it.
When we finish, I take a step back to admire our handiwork.
"CR," I whisper, satisfaction blooming in my chest. Crimson Reapers.
For the first time, I feel like I'm truly a part of their twisted family.
"Good girl," King praises, taking the knife from my hand and turning me to face him. His amber eyes blaze behind the mask, full of dark pride as he cups my face, his thumbs brushing my cheeks. "You're fucking perfect, you know that?"
I definitely don't feel perfect, but I feel...strong. In control. Alive.
"Do you want to keep going? If not, I can take over."
As much as I want to find out how creative my man can get, now that my blood is pumping, I need more.
More of his fear. His pain.
His screams that bounce off the walls and go nowhere in this soundproof garage.
"I can keep going," I finally reply, my voice steady. My gaze flicks to the table of instruments beside us. "But I want to use that." I point to the pliers.
King's smirk deepens. "Be my guest."
I step past him, picking up the pliers, the weight solid in my hand. When I turn back to Phillips, he's gritting his teeth, his voice trembling with agony.
"You don't have to do this," he pleads, his tone low and urgent, like he's trying to reason with a wild animal. "This isn't you. You're not like them."
I smile, though the darkness of it feels foreign to me. "You don't know a damn thing about me, asshole. I'm not the same woman you met when I begged you to help me. Begged you to do your fucking job and honor your badge. Now, I'll show you what it feels like to beg for help that won't come."
Damn. Where the hell did all of this come from?
I sound like a villain monologuing in an anime...but why does it feel so fucking right?
Like I now have the power that I've been looking for since Isaac first stripped it away.
I grip Phillips' jaw, squeezing it until his lips part with a pained gasp. Then, I force the pliers into his mouth, grabbing hold of a molar and yanking it with all my strength.
He thrashes against the chains, screaming around the tool as I pull. Blood pools instantly in his mouth, and the tooth doesn't come out clean—it snaps midway, jagged and cruel.
Yeah, I'm really not cut out to be a dentist. This is kinda gross.
As he sobs, sputtering around the blood, I stare at the broken tooth between the pliers. Crimson streaks drip down my wrist, but I barely notice. With a flick of my hand, I drop the tooth onto the table behind me. The soft clink of it hitting the metal is barely audible over Phillips' choking cries.
Without hesitation, I grab his jaw again, forcing his head back as I shove the pliers deeper into his mouth.
I've got some really bad news for him tonight. If he thought that was painful, this is only the beginning.