There are times when the beast becomes so loud, I have no choice but to let him and his demon minions come out to play.
Sometimes, a mere disruption of other people’s lives is enough. Other times, that doesn’t cut it and there needs to be full-on anarchy. Perhaps arson here, destruction there, and burying seeds of chaos everywhere.
At this moment, however, my beast is not in the mood for small-time felonies. No. It’s not about satiating its urges and sending it back into hibernation.
This is about making someone pay.
In blood.
With his fucking life.
He dared to not only look in the direction of what’s fucking mine, but to also touch her. Fucking. Touch. Her.
If there’s any time I refuse to put my beast on a leash, this is it. In fact, on my way here, I smashed the shackles that kept him in place, so he’s out in his full glory.
I’ve been patiently waiting for the fucking bastard who’s living on borrowed time by the corner opposite his flat on the tenth floor of an old building. I don’t get agitated, don’t pace, and I certainly don’t lose my cool. The rage that rushes through my veins doesn’t turn me irrational; it turns me deadly calm.
Calculatively murderous.
I’ve always had impeccable control over my emotions and have never displayed strong ones. In fact, I looked down on the peasants who allowed their distorted feelings to guide their decisions.
Having lived my life preying on other people’s sentimental rubbish, I’ve perfected the art of never allowing them to use mine.
My target appears at the top of the staircase, walking to his flat with nonchalance and looking so happy with himself. Rory has always been a spoiled brat with nothing in his head but drugs and the immense need to seem more grandiose than his rat-like presence.
The reason I’ve kept him close is because he belongs to my circle and is a useful pawn. But that ended the moment he dared to do the unthinkable.
I wait for him until he’s close, my body humming with thoughts about snapping his neck. But that’s too little of a punishment. Death is a peace that I won’t allow him for the foreseeable future.
The moment he’s near the fire escape staircase, I stalk out from my hideout at the corner and slam my body against his from behind. He loses balance and releases a surprised noise, but he turns around, his sunglasses fall and smash to the ground, and I’m met with his hideously bloodshot eyes.
“What the fuck—”
His words end on an oomph as I grab him by the collar, push him against the metal railing, and slam my fist into his nose. Pain explodes in my knuckles, but I do it again and again.
Rory’s face swings left, then right, then left again under my powerful blows, but he manages to spit out, “Is this about my little visit to your flavor of the week?”
My Mia is everything but the flavor of the week, but I don’t tell him that.
“I knew you were daft, but I didn’t think you’d be this daft, Rory.” I kick his shins and he falls on his knees so that he has to look up at me as if I’m his god. At this moment, I might as well be. “You of all people should know by now that I can destroy you and your entire fucking family if you get in my way. Aside from the information I have on you, I can gather more dirt and figure out weaknesses that you have no idea existed, and I would use them one by each one to ruin you until I make you go bloody insane.”
I punch him again and blood explodes in his split lip and drips on his T-shirt and the floor. Rory snarls with bloodied teeth like an injured animal. “You should’ve kept your part of the deal and stopped ignoring us like we were an afterthought.”
“News flash, motherfucker. You are an afterthought. In fact, you’re so fucking useless that I forget you exist sometimes. The Elites is a club I started for my own entertainment and every one of you is a fucking pawn on my chessboard, so when I tell you to jump, you ask how high. When I tell you to throw yourself down a well, you do that with eyes wide open, like you’ve been doing all along.”
“You fucking…” He starts to stand up, but with my merciless grip on him, he only manages to make it halfway. “You said we were partners.”
“And you believed it? But then again, you were never that bright, were you, Rory?”
“I was bright enough to make your girl’s acquaintance. She was soft and delicate. I can see why you’re so obsessed with her.”
Blind rage rushes to my head and I lift him up, then wrap my hands around his neck and push him back against the railing so that he’s hanging halfway outside. “You don’t seem to have any self-preservation neurons in your barren brain, so I’ll make your suicidal wishes come true.”
His fingers claw at my hands with frantic, desperate movements, but they do nothing to make me loosen my grip. If anything, I tighten my fingers incrementally. First, he gasps and chokes on nonexistent breaths. Then, his face transforms to a deep red, his bloodied lips turning blue.
I can feel the dire gurgles of his last breaths beneath my fingers as his body fights for a chance to live.
Kill him.
Finish his miserable life for daring to touch what’s yours.
The voices grow in intensity, clashing and mounting until they’re all I can hear.
But I ignore and loosen my hold on Rory’s neck. Death is still too good for the twat and I refuse to let him go down in peace.
I keep him on the edge, hanging, close to falling ten stories and losing his miserable life as I say, “You’ll leave the island and will never, and I mean never, show your fucking face here again or else we’ll have problems. And by we, I mean you.”
He nods countless times like a broken toy, and I pull him up, then release him.
I kick him one last time, then turn around to leave.
“I left you a souvenir with Mia. Hope you like it.”
I stop dead in my tracks and release a long sigh. Seems that he truly is in the mood to fuck with me today. What am I if not a good sport?
Let’s hope this rage will be dissipated once I’m done with Rory.
Otherwise, Mia will be in deep fucking trouble.
