“Zade,” Daya calls. “Please.”
I look over to her, my mallet suspended over the massive nail lodged into Luke’s leg. She looks a little nauseous, but I can’t find it in myself to care right now.
I’ve been pounding the nail into his forearm for the past few minutes, and I’ve gotten it down far enough that it’s all the way through and embedding into the wooden table, but it’s a huge nail, and there’s still some length to go.
Luke’s moans are full of agony, and his desperate pleas make me feel as good as I’m capable of feeling.
Not fucking enough.
I want him to scream so loud until his cries give out and his voice box shatters completely.
Daya’s hand is resting on my arm, her own plea cutting through the noise in my head.
“He hurt you,” I say flatly.
She nods. “He did. And I’m ready to take over now.”
I release the mallet, the heavy rubber dropping painfully onto his arm before clattering to the table. His answering scream vibrates through his house.
Not. Enough.
I swipe at my nose and turn away, my hands shaking with the need to keep pounding down the nail until the head connects with his flesh.
It’s been over an hour since I dragged Luke onto his dining room table and started conducting my torture. I found some tools in his garage and decided to make good use of them since he’ll never get the chance.
Daya clears her throat. “Luke? Stay awake, buddy boy.” I hear skin slapping and glance back to see her roughly smacking his cheek. His head lolls, more groans releasing from his throat.
“Please,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. It needs to be depleted. Even then, I won’t be satisfied.
“You know, I've been saying the same thing to you for a week,” Daya says, her voice breaking. Her eyes fill with tears, and it only stokes the flames in my chest.
She and Addie love each other fiercely. And because Addie is my family, that makes Daya my family, too.
It’s best I make an example of him so others will know to never fuck with them again.
Doesn’t help that he played a massive role in getting my girl kidnapped.
And that… that is just unforgivable. Un-survivable.
Luke swallows, yet words fail him for several moments. “It wasn’t personal,” he croaks. “I was only doing what Max told me to.”
“Max told you to stick your dick inside me?” Daya counters, her tiny fist curling in a tight ball.
I hope she fucking uses them. I would only stop her so I could deliver a few of my own punches before I let her end his miserable life.
“No, Daya, I just… I’ve missed you so much.”
Daya closes her eyes, a tear leaking past her eyelashes. I’ve no idea if these two had much of a relationship past one night together, nor is it my business. But it doesn’t matter because whatever Luke stole from Daya, she plans on taking it back.
“I didn’t miss you, Luke, you know that, right?” she retorts, her pale eyes blazing. His mouth opens, but she keeps going. “Anytime I thought of you, it was out of disgust. I should’ve known you’d find a way to surprise me and turn out to be so much worse than I thought.”
“L-look, I’m sorry for the role I played, but you have to understand that Max is crazy.” When I step closer, not a shroud of understanding reflected back at him, he becomes more desperate. “Seriously, man! If I didn’t do what he said, he’d have me killed!”
“Did he tell you to abuse Daya? Rape her?”
He flounders, his mouth opening and closing as he searches for the right answer. Or rather, the right lie.
Daya’s eyes cling to him as she holds her hand out to me expectantly. I don’t look away from Luke as I grab a knife from the table next to me and hand it to her, knowing what she’s asking for.
She doesn’t waste time. Doesn’t hesitate for a second. She just grips the black handle in a tight fist, the metal glinting off the dining room lights as she rises it above him and plunges it down into his throat. Sharp metal cuts through flesh and bone, silencing his pleas.
Luke’s eyes widen into round discs, staring at his reaper with disbelief. It’s always disbelief. As if they didn’t see it coming. Or maybe, they just can’t accept the fact that they’re actually dying.
Men like this, who have lived their lives so selfishly and with no regard for others’ lives, are always the most desperate to live forever.
But they never understood that’s what makes them so goddamn weak. It’s the people who have no regard for their own life—people like me. We are the ones that are the deadliest.