21. Magnus #3
She nods and watches Dominic while he approaches the man tied to the chair. A single bulb dangling from the air, illuminating the disgusting unconscious prick.
June should leave, she should go sit in the car, wait for us to do what we do best. She shouldn’t see what’s about to happen, for it might actually make her change her mind about how merciless we are.
“Love, you might not want to watch what happens next.” Beckett approaches June but Hayes blocks his path.
“Don’t tell me what to do.” She walks over to where Dom stands and eyes the small cloth on the ground with a few shiny, sharp objects. Kneeling, she hovers her fingertips over them, grasping the switchblade on the end.
Her breath catches, something I’m not sure if the others notice.
Is that the weapon he used on her? The one that sliced through the delicate skin on her jaw. The same one she impaled in his thigh before fleeing his captivity?
I yearn to take it from her grasp and filet him over and over, allowing him to beg for mercy, only to be met with endless slices of the blade until he bleeds to death at my hands. A death that would never be justice enough for what he did to her.
Beckett takes a few steps toward her. “I can wake him, if you’d like.”
A growl leaves Dominic's chest, something I'm not sure he intended on doing. His possessiveness is almost animalistic at this point. He extends his hand. "Give it to me."
“Very well.” Beckett drops a small white packet into Dom’s palm.
“What is that?” June asks him.
Dominic pinches the thing between his fingers and puts it under the captive man’s nose.
The guy wrenches his head back, his eyes wide, his mouth gasping for air. “Fuck.” He blinks a few times and steadies his gaze around the room, his sights lingering on June and then Dominic. “This can’t be good.” He wets his dry and cracked lips and relaxes into his chair.
June rises to her feet, the knife clutched in her small hand.
Dominic plants his arm in her path to block her from getting any closer. “Not yet.”
I rush over to her, hoping that because I’m the only person in the room she’s not pissed at, it will calm her a bit. This man has it coming, but first, Dominic would like to question him.
“It’s no use.” Beckett chimes in. “Already worked Vincent over. He’s not spilling.”
Dom tilts his head at Beckett. “Sounds pretty convenient coming from you.”
"Have at it then." Beckett motions for Dom to go on.
“Oh, how cute. You think I’m working for Beckett.” Vincent laughs. “While you two play a pathetic game of cat and mouse, you’re none the wiser to what’s really going on out here.”
Dominic kneels where June was, grabbing the handle of a knife off the fabric laid on the concrete floor.
He lightly points it on Vincent’s thigh.
“Which one was it, this one? The other? You know, doesn’t matter.
” Dominic shoves the sharp edge through the man’s jeans and into the fleshy part of his upper leg.
Vincent screams, a salve to my soul knowing he’s in pain. “Fucking bastard.”
“Who are you working for?” Dominic slowly pulls the serrated thing out of his leg and lines it up against the other.
“Like I’d fucking tell you.” Vincent wretches back and forcefully spits at Dominic.
Dominic doesn’t flinch. He slams his fist down, driving the knife into the man’s leg.
I side-eye June, an unreadable expression on her beautiful face.
“Get her out of here.” Dominic doesn’t bother turning around.
“No.” June comes to life, stepping around in his peripheral.
Dominic stands, this bloody knife remaining in his grasp, and wipes his face on his sleeve. His jaw tenses before he looks at June. “You’re not going to want to witness this.”
June calmly touches his shoulder, nudging him aside. “Allow me.”
Vincent loudly laughs through his pain. “This ought to be good. Sending a girl to do a man’s job.”
June isn’t just some girl. She’s fucking fierce.
And this fucking idiot has no idea what’s in store for him.
To be honest, none of us really know what June’s capable of.
Will she end him quickly? Will she decide it’s too much and let one of us finish him off?
Will she do what any rational person would do?
Call the cops and let the system do its job?
I eye her every move, my heart steady as I prepare myself for what’s about to happen next.
Using caution, June raises her knife-wielding hand toward the man.
Vincent glances down at the blade and then up at her. He snaps his head forward, biting at the air in his attempt to rattle her.
Just like Dominic, June doesn’t budge. She inches the blade closer, dragging it along the man’s cheek. At first, it’s a small prick of blood, but she drives the thing in, sending a trail of red pouring down his chin. Her body relaxes, almost like she’s done this before in another life.
“Fucking bitch,” Vincent blurts out, ripping his head away from her.
June clicks her tongue and runs the blade along the other side of his face. Sloppier this time but still effective. “Someone hold him for me.”
When the other three fail to act, I move, rushing over to latch onto Vincent’s head and secure it as best I can. Now I can watch her face while she carves into his flesh.
He wiggles under my hands. “What the fuck, you’re going to let this bitch do this?”
“Shut the fuck up unless you want me to cut your tongue out,” I tell him.
June digs the thing into his forehead, slicing some kind of pattern I can’t see from behind him.
Not that I care. The satisfaction of witnessing this so intimately is enough to make my dick throb in my pants.
What kind of sick fuck am I for being turned on by watching my girl inflict bodily harm on someone who deserves it?
“Shirt.” She points the knife at his chest.
This time it’s Dominic that steps up, ripping the collar of this man’s top and exposing the thick, hairy grossness underneath.
Blood trickles onto his skin.
“Think I could cut out his heart?” June rocks on her hip, sizing up the potential in front of her.
Beckett approaches. “I’ll do it for you.”
“Wh-what? No. You people are fucking crazy.” Vincent twists to get away.
“What did I say?” I grip his hair and tilt his head up to look at me. “Now you lose the ability to speak.” I release him with a shove forward and come around to where Dom and June stand. “Anyone have any pliers?”
Beckett holds up his finger. “Hold please.” He walks over to a nearby workbench and fumbles through a small bag. “Here we are.” He pulls out a rusty pair that will do the job. Coming back, he asks, “I can do the honors, if you’d like?”
I glance over to June, noticing Hayes standing off by himself, a look of complete surprise on his face.
Is he in shock? I never pegged him to be one to shy from bloodshed, especially with him being the man that he is, but with June involved, it must be rocking his world at how naturally she has adapted to this lifestyle.
It’s a bit mind-blowing for me, too, but I’m choosing to ride this wave of euphoria while it lasts.
Hayes clears his throat, getting June’s attention. “He might lose a lot of blood when you cut out his tongue.”
“You’re not serious.” Vincent continues to struggle despite being tied to his death chair. “I barely touched you. You made your point.”
June turns back to him. “And what if I didn’t get away?
What would you have done then? Continued to carve me like a pumpkin?
Would you have gone so far as to rape me?
Do vulgar things to my corpse? The possibilities are endless, aren’t they?
Who’s to say when you would have stopped?
If this doesn’t end tonight, when does it?
What other innocent people have you hurt because no one thought to put you down? ”
“I-I…I’m no different than them.” Vincent flashes his gaze at the guys in the room and then at June. “Than you.”
“Maybe.” June agrees. “But that’s not why we’re here. No. This is your doing. You are a sick and twisted man, and this world will be a much better place without you taking up one more breath of air.”
His mouth drops open in disbelief.
June looks over her shoulder at me. “Do it.”
I nod to Beckett, who moves forward and rips Vincent’s chin open and latches onto his tongue with the pliers. He tugs it out of his mouth while Vincent writhes.
Dominic places the knife in my hand and I waste no time slicing it across the thick, meaty thing, partially separating it from where it spent at least forty years.
I drag the blade back and forth to cut all the way through.
With a final tug from Beckett and a gurgled scream, it flops onto the ground, and blood pools in Vincent's mouth, overflowing onto his exposed stomach and coating his lap.
Tears roll down the man’s cheeks, either from the pain or the realization that he fucked with the wrong woman. June alone is wicked enough but mixing the four of us men into this is a nightmare he never could have imagined.
“Finish him,” Hayes tells her.
June glides behind the man, taking a fistful of his hair into her hand. She shifts her gaze briefly to each of us, settling on me last.
Is it approval she’s after?
I nod and semi expect her to hesitate, to process what she's done, and come to the realization that we've corrupted her. To stop and run out of here, getting as far from the madmen in this room as possible.
Instead, she continues to confirm just how well she fits into this madness.
June tilts Vincent’s head up and with one final movement, she slices the blade across his neck, cutting him open from side to side. Blood gushes out, a bit of it spraying onto her face. Her crimson-soaked hand, still gripping the knife like she’ll never let it go.
Is this when the other shoe drops? The recognition of the magnitude of what she’s done setting in? Or maybe this is the evolution of June stepping into the new chapter of her life?