CHAPTER 12 #2
My hand clamped around Gault’s wrist like a steel vice.
I twisted, and there was a sickening, dry crack as the bone snapped under the pressure of my grip.
His fingers instantly went limp and turned a mottled purple as the blood flow was cut off.
The silver letter opener clattered to the floor, spinning into the shadows.
Gault let out a high-pitched, pathetic yelp, his eyes bulging out of his sweaty face as he finally registered the giant in the bespoke suit standing over him.
"You’re making a mess of my floor, Warren," I said, my voice dead flat.
"Blyad, you scream like a girl. That’s the sound of a radius snapping.
Hear it? You don't get to play anymore." I wrenched his broken arm lower, forcing him to bend.
"Look at me, you piece of shit. You shouldn't have come to the purge if you couldn't handle the guests.
Did you think the glass would protect you?
Drop the weapon. Oh wait, you already did.
Silence. The grown-ups are talking." I squeezed the broken bone, making him whimper.
"You’re shaking. It makes the aim difficult.
Hold still. This only gets worse if you move.
" I looked back over my shoulder at the doorway. "Ruby, see how the wrist breaks? It’s the weakest link in the chain. He’s nothing without that silver toy. "
Before he could even process the agony, I drove a brutal, precision-engineered kick straight into the back of his right knee.
The joint buckled with a wet pop. Gault pitched forward, his face smashing into the edge of the mahogany desk before he slid onto the floor in a pathetic heap of expensive wool and terror.
A single drop of his blood spattered onto my polished shoe.
I frowned at it with genuine irritation. Fucking pig.
"Stay down. It’s easier that way," I told him, stepping over his trembling legs. "The knee is the pillar. Break it, and the building falls. You’re bleeding on my suit, Warren. That’s a mistake.
I could kill you a dozen ways right now.
I'm choosing the slow one." I kept my eyes on Ruby in the doorway.
"Ruby, watch the way the weight shifts when the joint fails.
He can't run now. He can only crawl." I looked down at Gault, who was blubbering and holding his shattered knee. "Don't beg. It’s embarrassing for both of us. You’re not a hunter. You’re just a coward with a hobby. Do you feel that? That’s your career ending.
" I pointed at his pathetic, weeping face. "Look at his eyes. That’s the look of a man who realized he’s not the hero.
I'm going to let you live for exactly one more minute.
Make it count. The floor is cold, isn't it? "
I drew my own combat knife from its sheath.
The matte-black steel seemed to swallow the glare of the overhead lights.
I reached down, grabbed Gault by his sweaty, thinning hair, and yanked his head back with savage force, exposing the pale, trembling length of his throat.
My heavy Bratva crest ring pressed hard into his scalp, digging deep enough to draw tiny beads of blood that ran down his forehead.
I didn't look at his face. My ice-blue gaze was fixed entirely on Ruby. I demanded she witness this. I was looking for a crack in her resolve, a sign that she’d recoil and run back to being the normal girl from the cafe.
But my heart was hammering a chaotic rhythm against my ribs because she wasn't looking away. She was actually inching closer. Suka.
"Ruby. Come here," I commanded. "Step closer. I want you to see the anatomy. This is the point of no return. Don't look at his face. Look at the blade. He’s just a collection of veins and nerves now. See the pulse in his neck? That’s his life counting down.
I want you to memorize this." I tightened my grip on his hair.
"This is what happens to people who touch what’s mine.
Are you watching, malen'kaya kukla? The knife is just an extension of your will. Tell me you’re not going to vomit.
His fear is a toxin. Don't breathe it in. Watch the line I’m about to draw. "
I moved the blade with the grace of a surgeon.
I drew it cleanly and powerfully across Gault’s throat in a single, deep, decisive slash.
No frantic hacking. Just the sharp, wet sound of steel severing flesh.
A sudden spray of hot, arterial blood erupted from the wound, painting the front of my white dress shirt, blooming like a dark, macabre flower against the cotton.
Gault’s eyes went massive, his hands flying up to his ruined neck as his life poured out onto the floor in a hot, rhythmic torrent.
"Clean. Precise," I narrated over the horrifying wet gurgle of his destroyed throat. "There’s no coming back from that. The sound you’re hearing? That’s the air escaping.
It’s faster than you think." I stared at her, locking her hazel eyes with mine.
"Don't look away. Witness it. He’s already dead.
His brain just hasn't caught up. The arterial spray is the heartbeat's final signature. Look at the color. That’s oxygen leaving the body.
" I let Gault’s head drop slightly. "No more talking for you, Warren. It takes less than three pounds of pressure. The blade does the work if you let it. Ruby, this is the reality of the hunt. He’s nothing but a lesson now. "
The blood continued to spray, splattering violently against the glass wall behind the desk in a grotesque abstract pattern.
I stepped over Gault’s twitching legs and moved directly behind Ruby.
I wrapped my blood-slicked hand around the back of her head, my fingers tangling in her chopped dark hair, and physically forced her to keep her face pointed at the dying man.
I pressed my heavy chest flush against her back, grounding her with my weight as Gault’s life pulsed out onto the carpet.
A single, hot drop of his blood landed high on Ruby’s pale cheek.
She didn't flinch. She just stared at the cooling corpse. My angel. My vengeful fucking angel.
"Watch the pressure drop," I commanded, my hand warm and sticky against her scalp.
"Don't turn your head. You need to see this. This is the truth of the world, Ruby. Do you feel the heat of it? You’re doing so well, malen'kaya kukla.
I've got you. You’re safe with me, but you need to know this.
" I pointed to the twitching pile of meat on the floor. "See how he’s twitching? Those are just nerves. The spray tells you where the heart is. I'm not going to let you hide from this. This is what we are tonight. The ones who stay standing. Does it look like the movies? No. It’s quieter. Breathe with me. In and out. Look at the glass. It’s a mirror now. "
I lowered my head, dropping my voice to a clinical, low murmur that vibrated directly against her ear.
My chest rumbled against her shoulder blades with every word I spoke, a steady, grounding force in the middle of the massacre.
I gestured with my clean left hand toward Gault's ruined neck, tracing the air just inches from the wound.
I could see the gears turning in her head.
She wasn't a victim; she was a weapon waiting to be sharpened.
"Carotid artery. Right there," I whispered, feeling her breathing steadying out into a terrifyingly calm rhythm. "You sever that, they have less than a minute of consciousness. See the spray? That’s the arterial pressure. He is already dead, Ruby. The brain is just the last to know. If you hit the spine, they drop instantly. It’s about the angle of the blade. You have to commit. If you hesitate, you die. The neck is the highway of the body. Cut the road, and the city dies. Do you understand why I did it this way? Maximum effect. Minimum noise. I’m teaching you how to stay alive when I’m not there.
Tell me you see it. His life is on the floor because he was slow. "
"If you only hit the jugular, it is slower," I continued, stripping every ounce of emotion from my tone.
"A bleeder, not a spray. Amateur. You aim here.
" I reached around her front, extending a clean finger, and traced a slow, deliberate line across her own neck.
Her pulse thrummed violently right under my fingertip, frantic and alive.
"Always here. Maximum effect, minimum noise.
You don't want them screaming. You want them fading. "
"Don't be an amateur," I told her, my finger lingering right behind her jawline. "The jugular is for people who want to watch them suffer. We don't have time for that. Here. Right behind the jawline. Feel your own pulse. That’s where you strike. It’s a soft entry. The blade slides in like it belongs there. You need to be a shadow that cuts. Noise attracts more hunters. Silence is your armor. Do you feel my finger? That’s the line between life and death.
I'm going to make sure no one ever gets close enough to do this to you.
But if they do, you do this to them. Don't think.
Just act. The body is just a machine with a few key switches. You are learning the master key."
Gault’s body gave one final, spastic twitch—his expensive leather shoe drumming briefly against the carpet—and then lay completely still.
The wet gurgling stopped. A heavy, thick silence slammed down on the office.
I watched Ruby’s face in the reflection of the bloody glass.
She didn't gag. I felt a single, sharp tremor run through her body from head to toe, and then she locked into a state of unnatural composure.
She slowly reached up and wiped the single drop of blood from her cheek with the back of her hand, her expression completely dead-eyed.
I was floored. It was terrifying and profoundly intoxicating.
She was a mirror reflecting a version of myself that hadn't been broken yet.