After that, I take every bedsheet I can find in his studio and tie them together into an extensive rope, then set it aside.
Breathing heavily, I aim for a heavy cabinet in his kitchen and empty out the contents. Dragging it to the massive window, I lean it snugly against it and then take a step back.
I inhale deeply, gather every ounce of wrath, use it as fuel, and kick out my leg with all my strength. The cabinet splinters the glass, spiderwebs fissuring across the entire window. Growling, I kick out once more, and with a loud crack, the cabinet goes flying through it.
Tiny shards cut into my skin, but I hardly notice, just as the deafening crash from the cabinet barreling into the ground doesn’t register, either.
I’m already making my way back down to the second floor, where the doctor lies dead, donning gloves and a mask from his supplies. The smell stabs at my nostrils and eyes; the N95 doing nothing to filter out the smell.
Snapping on two layers of gloves, I grab the corpse by the collar of his shirt and drag him back up to his studio, where the sick fuck used to take patients and rape them while unconscious.
Regardless of his extracurricular activities, the doctor was clearly involved in the skin trade, which means this won’t only send a message to the Society, but it will also send a message to every trafficker who has had the misfortune of stepping foot inside this place.
They will know that Z knows.
Vomit swirls in my stomach from the pungent odor, threatening to rise up my throat as I drag the dead body to the window. I grab the last bottle of alcohol and dump the entire contents all over him.
Holding my breath, I grab the rope made out of bed sheets, tie one end around his torso beneath his arms, and the other end to his bed frame.
Then, I throw him out of the fucking window. The legs of the frame scream against the cement floor as it drags a few feet before holding tight.
Satisfied, I tear off the gloves and mask, pull out another cigarette and light it up, inhaling deeply as I sit on the edge of the bed. I hold the lighter to one of the drapes on the floor, the material bursting into flames and quickly spreading.
And then I enjoy my cigarette while my wrath comes to life before my eyes.
It’s both loud and silent in my brain, filled with white noise that drowns out any coherent thoughts. I feel everything and nothing at all, and I’ve never been more dangerous.
Never been more lethal.
I laugh and enjoy watching this place fucking burn. So many awful things happened here. So many victims—so many women and children were brought through for a temporary fix just to be taken somewhere and broken all over again.
Slowly, I stand and make my way out of the room. My body physically registers the heat, sweat beading on my forehead and down the back of my neck. Smoke fills my lungs and the flames singe at my skin.
Yet, I can’t feel a goddamn thing.
Right as I exit the building, I inhale fresh air and meet a frantic Jay. I cough a few times, clearing my lungs as best I can before I take another puff on my cigarette.
“Seriously, dude? You’re smoking while burning down a building? You literally just inhaled a shit ton from the fire.”
Ignoring him, I walk around to the back where the corpse hangs from the rope. Smoke licks at the edges of the window, and while the bedsheets are beginning to burn, I had purposely left them dry.
I bring the cigarette to my lips and inhale one last time before flicking it onto the doctor, his body instantly igniting.
I smile, smoke curling out from between my bared teeth.
That’s better.
A beacon to let every motherfucker in my path know what is coming for them next—a beast that has made a home within the fire.
These flames will die, but the ones in Hell are eternal.
I'll see you there, fucker.
Satisfied, I turn my back to the inferno I’ve breathed to life and walk away.
I told my mouse I would stop littering, but something tells me she wouldn’t mind just this once.
Chapter 12
The Diamond
“How’s it feel to be a failure?” a voice whispers from behind me.
It instantly evokes chills down my spine. I whip around, her face inches from mine, causing me to jerk back. My fist curls, tempted to send it flying into her fucking nose.
I was standing in my room, just about to unbutton my jeans and look at the damage, when she snuck up behind me.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I hiss. She just stares at me with wide dark eyes, a smile frozen on her creepy fucking face.
I swallow, unsettled, and thoroughly weirded the hell out.
“I think the better question is what isn’t wrong with me,” she retorts, giggling as she does. She rocks up on her toes, her eyes gliding up and down my ravaged body.