Chapter 11 Fredrick #3
Endless freedom to torture, fuck, and kill, in no particular order, seemed so appealing to the sadistic part of me that was tired of playing “good little country club boy.”
I wanted to do what I wanted—kill whomever I so pleased, without repercussions. So, when they said get Mikah on board, and I could have it all, I signed without reading the fine print.
They don’t tell you that you’ll become a prisoner—a modern-day enslavement. Given the illusion of freedom after reform, only to be discarded in the bottomless pit of indentured servitude in perpetuity.
“Fredrick.” Mikah snarls.
Irritated by the sound of his voice, I storm away from a scene that would normally have my undivided attention, considering how many ways I can kill the whiny bitch we’ve had to baby for the last eighteen years.
They won’t let you do that. Remember the last time you tried.
Grinding my teeth, I once again come to terms with the stupid fact that they won’t let me kill their “golden boy”.
Refusing to get the short end of this proverbial shit stick, I decide if I’m getting fucked, I may as well do some of the fucking myself.
“What, Mikah?” I hiss, storming to the spot where I keep my liquid nitrogen. “This isn’t some emergency. Everything’s in place, like we wanted. Talia is here, on our turf, like we wanted. And we’ll catch her and make her our Queen—
like.
We.
Wanted.”
Mikah huffs, mumbling something I can’t understand before the line goes dead.
“Goddamn, fucking pain in my ass,” I mutter before signaling to Finley to bring Noah and Delaney over. My mood is spoiled, and I need a more refined brand of entertainment.
Sliding the gloves on, I point to the workbench to the right of me. “Get on there.”
Delaney pauses, a small glimpse of clarity before the effects of Spark swallow it.
It’s why the drug is so perfect. The chemical compounds lower your inhibitions, overriding your impulse controls by targeting the prefrontal cortex and the limbic system, while heightening your desire.
All of this leads to an endless need to do whatever it takes to come.
Noah scoots around Delaney, easily lies back on the bench, cock pointing high to the sky. He tugs Delaney, whose eyes connect with his shaft covered in her juices.
Thinking she’s going to get to screw some more, all apprehension dissolves, and Delaney climbs up, ready to hop back on Noah’s dick.
“No, not on him. Next to him,” I order. “With your legs spread.” Then I turn to Finley. “Eat her out while I make her a treat she’ll never forget.
Finley nods, face buried between Delaney’s thighs. They both fill the room with their moans, serving to keep Noah nice and hard just like I need him to be.
He’s so busy staring longingly at the two of them, he misses what comes next until it’s too late. I grip his dick, slicing through his shaft at the base before using tongs and dipping it into the liquid nitrogen.
Noah’s screams multiply as his brain finally catches up to what just transpired.
“Move, Finley, and go ride his face until he bleeds out,” I shout, and she jumps out of the way.
Why not let the dude get one more cockless nut before he disappears into the void?
Then I take the Noahsicle, shove it inside Delaney’s pussy, and use my gloved hand to rub her clit.
Giddy with the frozen dildo, I’ve decided I want to try it before it thaws, imagining the taste of Delaney’s cunt on it.
“Watch out. She’s—”
My skull feels like it’s caved in while someone curb-stomps me. I’m trying to figure out where I am and what happened when I hear her.
Talia.
She’s finally here.
“Let me guess, you think he’s going to keep you and the two of you will ride off into the fucked-in-the-head sunset?”
I snort, loving Talia’s ever-amusing wit.
“Back off, bitch,” Finley seethes. “Or, I’ll make you a hood ornament.”
My lips curl at her threat. Who the fuck did Finley think she was to be talking to my queen like that? She’d better be happy I’m not coherent enough to snap her neck.
Groaning, I crack my eyes open slowly, trying to move, only to discover that I’m tied to something. No, not tied—chained.
“How unfortunate. You’re still in the land of the living, and I’m forced to share the same air as you,” Talia hisses.
“I’ve been waiting for you, my sweet, sweet Talia.” I croon honestly.
The neon-red mask she loves is resting on the top of her head, giving me a rare glimpse of her beauty. Her big hazel eyes dipped in honey, her full, cupid’s bow, plush lips, and flawless skin.
“I’ve been waiting for you, you sick, sick bastard,” she admonishes, mocking my earlier statement.
“Don’t you fucking speak to him like that,” Finley growls, her voice now more of an annoyance than its earlier sultriness.
Talia studies her. “Is she for real?”
Shrugging, I retort, “What can I say? I can’t help that I’m charming.”
Talia screws her lip up in disgust. First at me and then at Finley, like she’s trying to figure out where the factory reset is for her model.
“He’s mine,” Finley reiterates. “You can’t—”
Before Finley can finish, Talia’s hand whips out.
“It’s too soon to be a Stockholm bitch,” she snaps, glaring as the throwing knife lands in the middle of Finley’s throat.
Ever so fierce, my Talia.
“What happened to rehab?” I tease.
Cutting her eyes at me, she arches a brow before responding, “Do I fucking look like a rehabilitation center, Fredrick?” When I smirk, but don’t respond, she continues. “Why?”
I chuckle, “Come now, beautiful. Let’s not insult each other’s intelligence by asking questions you know I’ll never answer.”
Why we did what we did isn’t something to rehash. None of us will answer, even under the threat of death. I shiver, because death would be a mercy compared to what would happen if they found out we so much as thought of confessing.
They’ve been conspiring for too long and would sooner gut even their most important members before they would allow any details of their plan to be revealed.
“You might as well hurry up and get this over with if that’s the line of questioning you have for me, Tati.” I love the way her nickname dances across my tongue.
My head whips left, blood filling my mouth. I can feel the fracture in my jaw, and when I peer over, I see blood covering a pair of brass knuckles.
“Now the fun can begin,” I goad her, knowing I’ll die at her hands tonight, but not yet. I need a little bit more time.
Preparing to taunt her further, I spit the excess blood from my mouth before swiping my tongue over my lips.
“Go play games with the other two dead bitches in the afterlife,” she sneers, seconds before her bat hits me square in my face.
My neck snaps back, and before I can recover, barbed wire connects with the side of my head, then my ribs, and then back up to my head.
I smile, knowing I’m missing teeth, since I’m pretty sure I swallowed at least four of them.
In another life, she would be on our side—in another life, she’d be ours, and we’d be the sharpest blade in her arsenal.
But we aren’t in an alternate timeline—we’re in this one. And here—here we are the enemy.
“May you never find peace and may hell not even welcome you,” Talia spits before my world goes black.