Chapter 8 #2
Nothing.
“I’m in,” I mutter under my breath as I let myself inside and head to the door that will open to the main house.
Her voice crackles through, sending a ripple through my chest. “Same. The idiot left a window open in the spare bedroom.”
I crack the door open and glide inside.
Darkness greets me.
I hold back.
As my eyes adapt, shapes begin to form.
The framework of a kitchen, the island, cabinets, and the stainless steel of the appliances, catching the faintest edge of ambient light.
The blueprint replays in my head as I move to where we last saw him.
My ears prick up, I hear footsteps. Bare feet touching the tile.
I stop and flatten myself against the nearest wall, melting into the shadows.
He’s coming this way.
My stomach drops as my pulse levels out instead of kicking into overdrive.
I shift my weight to peek around the edge and see a bathroom just off the kitchen.
He dashes inside.
Not bothering to shut the door or turn on the light, he fumbles at his waistband and pulls his dick out of his pants, and then a second later releases his bladder into the toilet. A low moan of relief escapes from him.
My eyes track across the room.
Cassidy.
She’s hunched behind the couch, balanced on the balls of her feet, she’s coiled, ready to strike.
Blade already out and in hand.
Her eyes find mine.
Charged with anticipation.
She runs her tongue along her bottom lip.
The stream cuts off.
He adjusts himself, scratching and tucking away as he flushes the toilet and doesn’t even bother to wash his hands.
I slide back into position, overseeing his movements as he shuffles out.
The abrupt impact, I see it before I hear it.
Cassidy drops to the floor with a solid thud, directly in his path. I move at the same time, watching.
Her long braid sways behind her with each motion.
He stumbles back, nearly losing his footing, terror and confusion crashes over his face.
“What the fuck! Who are you?!”
“The Reaper,” she booms, her voice full of delight as she laughs at herself.
I bite back a smile, using the doorframe to support me, arms folding across my chest as I observe the scene unfold.
She flips the blade through her fingers in a continuous movement. Deadly.
“Get the fuck out of my house,” he snaps, his voice splintering. “You crazy bit- “
He doesn’t finish his sentence because his eyes are racing around, searching for an escape that isn’t there.
Cassidy runs her blade over her tongue seductively, before she ridicules, “So you like raping women, jackinthebox149?”
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about?" he stutters, as he shrinks into himself.
“The internet is such a powerful tool when you want to really get to know someone,” she sucks her teeth, making a disapproving click.
Without flinching, Cassidy pinches the metal of the blade between her fingers and arcs it with deadly accuracy, slicing through the top of his foot. The resounding clang against the floor roots him in place.
He crumples to the floor, howling in agony, clutching his foot as blood begins seeping from the wound.
“What do you fucking want? I have money, connections, anything!” he shrieks desperately, spit trickling down the corners of his mouth.
Drifting over to him like a death goddess, she stands directly above him, glaring, “What. I. Want.” She angrily enunciates every word, “is for you to suffer the same way you’ve made others suffer!”
“Please stop! Please, I’ll do anything you ask! I have a family!” he sputters, heaving through sobs.
She stoops, mere inches from his face now, and scathingly chastises, “How many girls have asked you to stop? How many have begged?” The self-control in her voice begins to fray, “How many had families, were daughters or sisters?”
His face goes still, and his sobs stop as his face turns pale.
“Where the fuck is she?” she grits out.
Cassidy clutches another knife in her hands letting the blade glide down his face, stopping at his cheek, and in two rapid motions carves an X.
Startled, he propels himself away from her as the blood pools down his face.
“I don’t know! “
With a flick of her wrist, she wraps her hand around the handle of the knife still embedded in his foot and yanks it out.
An animalistic screech breaks free from his mouth as more blood flows from the gash.
Her hand runs through his hair, gripping it roughly as she tips his head back, displaying his throat. She anchors the blade just under his jaw.
“Let’s try this again,” she patiently clarifies, “Where is she?”
The blade breaches his flesh, and a shallow line forms as the skin expands and allows blood to dribble down.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The sentence leaves him in a breathless rush.
Cassidy goes motionless.
Then she throws her head back and lets out a manic laugh, her body rocking with it.
With lightning speed, she tugs a zip tie out of her vest and flips him onto his stomach, fastening his wrists behind his back. His skin is already turning red.
“If you’re going to keep lying, I’ll need all my knives, so I can keep stabbing you in different places,” she retorts, shrugging her shoulders.
He winces hard at that, and I’m inclined to believe her.
She turns him on his back and rests her blade across his throat again.
I come off the wall and advance, letting my boots carry enough weight to be heard.
His eyes whip to mine, surprise written all over his features.
Let him feel both sides of it.