58. Diesel
Chapter 58
Diesel
I enter the room with a frown. The place is really starting to stink. I’ve had King in my clutches for a week now and I would have thought the anger inside of me would have lessened by now, but it doesn’t seem to. If anything, being around this bastard makes it worse. I’ll have to end him soon. The appeal of watching him piss and shit himself left days ago.
I’ve robbed him of everything I could possibly think of. I started with the papers proving that it’s my blood in Ryan’s veins. I’m not sure he believed me, so I drew blood from him—through his fucking dick with a huge needle—and had a test done, then I let him see those results. He might have still doubted that test, but I don’t think so. I had Gunner draw the blood. He wasn’t thrilled to be handling a dick, even if it was limp and physically broken.
I probably need to ease up on Gunner soon. I sigh with that thought. I’m not even that jealous of him anymore. Rory is mine, I know that. It was just the principal of the thing.
And maybe a little bit of jealousy.
“Did you come to end it, finally?” King growls. I’ve broken his hands, and his fingers. They’re starting to get a nice gray and black tone to them. It’s a shame what loss of blood flow can do. For the most part, I’ve kept the torture light. A little water and electricity, some broken bones.
I wanted each thing I did to mean something. I even offered to let Devil in on the fun. He didn’t accept. He’s still fucking pissed that we didn’t find Wolf in the men we rounded up at the castle. I gave those men to Chul. They all knew of King’s plan to overthrow his brother and Chul signed their checks—so to speak. So, I figured whatever happened to them, wasn’t good. Eventually I’ll find Wolf and give him to Devil as a present. I’ve already got Scorpion working on it. Hopefully that will make things better, but I hate to tell him, as much fun as I’m having torturing King… it’s not helping the anger I have inside of me. There are some nights I think it just feeds it. Rory seems to be the only thing keeping me sane right now.
“Maybe. I’m not sure,” I tell King with a stark honesty that I’m sure he can’t fully appreciate.
“First, I’ve decided it’s time to take from you what you took from my woman,” I shrug, pulling out my bowie knife from its sheath and holding it up to look at King. His gaze lingers on the shiny, silver blade and I can see the fear there. He wants me to kill him, to end his punishment but that just seems too easy. I want him… to pay.
“I took nothing from her! I was teaching her to reach her potential!” he screams and I have no fucking idea what he means by that, but I’ve decided not to kill him now—which could make this tricky. If he dies, he dies, I guess. But, I really want him alive longer. I want him to know so much pain that it will follow him into death. He doesn’t deserve the peace death might give him.
“That’s where you’re wrong motherfucker. While you were beating my woman, you took our child.”
The asshole has the gall to laugh at that. That snaps what restraint I have. I’ll enjoy inflicting pain on him.
“Go ahead and laugh. You’ll be crying after this knife slices into your stomach.”
“I’ve been stabbed before,” he says, trying to act like it doesn’t bother him at all.
I go over and turn the propane heater on I have in the corner. I’ve taken the guard off of it, leaving the flame open. I stick the blade to it, heating it up as I grin at King, letting all of my hate boil through me and run free.
“I’m not stabbing you motherfucker. I’m going to cut a baby out of you.”
“You’re crazy! I can’t… You can’t!” he cries, and now I can see pure panic in him. I look down at the blade that now has a different tint on the silver blade. It’s hot… with any luck it will stem some of the bleeding so the asshole doesn’t die right away. Maybe he’ll just develop an infection and suffer for a while.
One can at least hope.
“Relax, fucker. I’ll probably get nothing but your guts. With any luck that will slow down the way you’re shitting your big fancy suit,” I growl, plunging the hot knife into his stomach. His screams are so loud my damn ears will probably ring for a month. I cut my way down. It’s a jagged line and I’m doing my best not to go too deep, though I realize I seem to be failing in that endeavor. “If you beg me nicely, I might even bandage you up so you don’t die too quickly,” I tell him once his screams die down.
He screams again as I move my knife deeper. It’s not making me feel a damn bit better, but his pain is helping to soothe a little of my anger.
I won’t let him die yet…. I can’t.