11. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
Roman
I walk down the hall, each step echoing in the quiet. Everything in this place feels like it’s stuck in time, just waiting for me to come back. I stop in front of my old room and take a deep breath before stepping inside. The room is exactly how I left it, but now it’s like a shrine to the past. Black sheets are still stained from the last time I was here. It’s like a ghost that won’t leave.
I see a picture of my pops on the wall, crooked and dusty. The old man who tried to love me despite everything. He was weak, too weak to handle what I am. I broke him. Not that I mean to but I’m sick. I thought I was over his death and that I left my pain. my trauma back in that prison. But shit, I didn’t expect this—didn’t expect the flood of memories and the ache in my chest. It’s like all the old wounds are open again. My vision blurs, and the picture of pops smudges behind a curtain of tears.
Damn it, I’m crying.
I blink, trying to clear the tears, but they just keep coming. It’s like a storm inside me, ripping apart everything I thought I was. I hate it. I hate that there’s still a part of me that can feel. But I can’t stop it, so I let the tears fall, standing in the middle of the room that still smells like us—like me.
But I don’t have time to dwell on this, not with Marcos’s body still outside in the snow. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, pull myself together, and head back down the hall. Xena’s still tied up in bed, waiting. But first, I need to deal with the mess.
Outside, the snows already started covering him, his face all pale and frozen. The storm’s doing its thing, but I’ve got to finish the job. I grab him by the ankles and drag him through the snow. The crunching sound is muffled, but I can still hear his bones scraping against the ice. It’s a noise that’ll probably haunt me later, but right now, it’s just background noise.
I toss his body into the storage, shoving him behind old tools and boxes. It’s not a perfect job, but it’ll do for now. I’ll deal with it properly later, once Xena’s completely broken.
With the storage locked up tight, I head back to the house. Xena’s still in bed, bound up and looking like a messed-up Christmas decoration with the lights all around her. The storm’s still raging outside, but in here, it’s just us and my plans.
I stand over her, watching her sleep, a cruel grin spreading across my face. My hand drifts to my cock, and I start stroking slowly, enjoying the sight of her tied up and helpless. When I’m ready, I finish on her stomach, the warm liquid spreading over her sun-kissed skin. I lean down, licking it off, feeling a twisted satisfaction as lap off the salty remnants of my cum. Once I’m done, I quietly unbind her, making sure she’s comfortable as she sleeps. My fingers graze over her pierced nipple, and I pause, realizing she still kept them—my mark. A faint smile tugs at my lips as I step back, careful not to wake her. I close the door behind me with a quiet click, locking it from the outside, trapping her in once again. It doesn’t bother me. As long as she ends up clean, nothing else matters.
With everything in place, I leave the house, my thoughts already shifting to what needs to be done next. I head back to the old hunter's cabin where I used to stay with my dad, the place now holding darker memories. Jimmy’s body needs to be dealt with, and I can already feel the thrill of planning our next game.
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Back in the shed, I get to work on Jimmy’s faceless body. The plan’s simple: pull his teeth, chop off his hands, and dump him in the lake. Lucky for me, I’ve got all the tools I need thanks to the trucker and my old man.
I start with the teeth. Pliers in hand, I yank each one out, dropping them into a bowl with a soft click . It’s gross, but it has to be done, can’t have him being identifiable if they ever find his pathetic body.
Next up are the hands. I grab the saw—the same one I used on the trucker—and get to it. The cabin fills with the grating sound of metal on bone, but eventually, the bone gives way, and each hand hits the floor with a solid thud . It’s messy work, but I keep going, whistling "Jingle Bells" like some twisted soundtrack to the whole thing. You know, keeping the Christmas spirit alive.
Once the hands are off, I take a look at what’s left of Jimmy and decide his legs are next. He’s going to the bottom of the lake, but not in one piece. As for his buddy Marcos, he’s set for a fiery dive down the mountain, too high to even notice as the flames consume him. That’s the plan.
I grab the saw again, the handle slick with sweat and grime. I take my time, sawing through Jimmy’s legs while whistling a tune that keeps me focused. Once done, I head to the shed for the wheelbarrow and lye—no clue why Dad kept it around, but it’s damn useful now. I toss Jimmy’s limbs into heavy black bags and load them into the wheelbarrow, each one heavier than any Christmas present.
The icy wind bites as I lug the bags to Jimmy’s car, humming "Frosty the Snowman" to keep my head in the game. After a few trips, I’ve got everything loaded up and ready to go. Before I head to the lake, I grab the lye—gotta make sure I wipe out any trace of DNA inside the car.
I take the long way to the lake, knowing the snow will cover my tracks. Coming from this direction will make it seem like he came from somewhere else, distancing him from me. The idiot had a burner phone for hustling, so I toss it down the snowy mountain road as I drive.
The drive to the lake is quiet—just the crunch of tires on snow and the low hum of the engine. I glance in the rearview mirror at the bags, but there’s no regret. Jimmy got what was coming to him. At the lake, I drop the body parts in different spots, making sure nothing will float up later. I spread the lye in the car, then push it toward the water. As the car breaks through the ice, I watch the headlights fade until the lake swallows everything.
I look up at the sky, letting the snow hit my face. My dick is rock hard, the adrenaline still pumping. There’s nothing like the thrill of ending a life. Under the stars, I feel invincible. The rush is everything, and I laugh, the sound getting lost in the snowy silence.
I feel alive.
I palm my cock, groaning with the urge to bury it in Xena. But I can’t leave any evidence here, so I head back to the cabin. There’s still more to do.