Part 11 (1/2)
I hear movement inside and pull the mask down over my face as I move out of the peephole's view.
Footsteps stop right on the other side of the door, and I hear him breathing nervously.
”Your uncle sent me. There's been a problem.”
He clears his throat but doesn't say anything.
”Come on, Euan.”
Silence.
”They killed her. She's dead, and now they're after you. We've gotta get you to a safe place. Joe sent me to get you.”
There's a loud sigh and then the k.n.o.b turns. The door barely cracks, then I shove my way in, grabbing the dumb b.a.s.t.a.r.d by his throat and knocking him to the ground.
”You f.u.c.king worthless little s.h.i.+t,” I hiss.
His eyes widen, pupils dilate, and his skin washes white.
”Who the f.u.c.k do you think you're messing with, huh?” I roar as I tighten my grip on his neck, squeezing so hard I can feel the delicate bones crush underneath my fingertips. He chokes. His arms flail. His fingers dig into my hands, trying to pry them away from his throat. He's so small compared to me, barely what I would call a man.
”Ah, ah, ah.” I shake my head. ”You calm the f.u.c.k down right now, or I'll just go ahead and end your pathetic life right here.”
His eyes widen more and he struggles beneath me, managing to nod his head. When I loosen my hold, he pulls in a desperate breath.
”You answer every last question I ask you, or I will kill you f.u.c.king slowly. Understand?”
He frantically nods again.
Out of all the questions I can ask him, out of all the information I could actually use to my advantage, the only thing I want to ask him is why he gave her away.
”Why?” I swallow and try to regulate my breathing. ”Why did you hand her over?” The thought of it and of everything that ensued once she arrived at my house flips through my mind. An angry heat consumes me. Leaning over his face, I shout at him, ”Why would you do that to her?”
Euan closes his eyes. Like that can make any of this go away. ”Did they really kill her?” he chokes out.
My fingers claw into his throat again. ”What the f.u.c.k do you think? You handed her over to low-lifes. She's gone.”
I watch tears trickle down his face, and I can't help but to jerk his head up and smash it onto the floor. ”Don't f.u.c.king cry, you worthless s.h.i.+t. It's your fault.” I slam his head into the floor again and he whimpers. ”You're a murderer, Euan,” I hiss.
I pull the gun from my pants, and push the barrel against his temple. My hand shakes from anger. ”I should blow your f.u.c.king brains all over the place just for that. For crying like a little b.i.t.c.h about something you did.”
He's still crying.
”Get up!” I twist the tip of the gun against his head as I stand, leaning over to drag him to his feet. ”Get”-I yank him once more-”up!”
I move the gun to the back of his skull and watch the end of it disappear in his hair. I shove him toward the kitchen. ”Face the corner.” Using the gun, I push him against the wall. ”Put both your hands behind your back, cross them over one another.”
He doesn't move.
”Do it now!” The command echoes from the cabinets.
His arms come behind him, noticeably trembling as he crosses them as instructed. He's not even fighting me. He's this pathetic that he won't even fight for his life.
I place my face close to the back of his neck and growl, ”You move, and I swear to G.o.d, I will make you suffer.” I exhale and wet my lips with my tongue. ”I want to know every last person that works with your uncle.”
”Uh, um, I...I don't know them.”
”Okay,” I nod and grab onto his scrawny bicep, burying my fingers into his flesh. ”You sure about that?”
”I don't,” he whines. The fear must really be setting in now.
Holding onto his arm, I slam my entire body weight into him, pus.h.i.+ng against his shoulder until I hear a crack. Euan screeches as his shoulder pops from its socket.
I glance around the kitchen, my eyes honing in on the large chef knife. I s.n.a.t.c.h it from the counter, wielding it in the air. ”Maybe I should do to you what they did to her?”
He won't open his eyes. He's just repeating please over and over again, still crying like a pathetic little b.i.t.c.h. ”You want me to show you what they did to that pretty little girlfriend of yours?” I take the knife and lay it over his t-s.h.i.+rt, pressing it through the material until I see bright red stain the fabric. I slowly carve 'P' into his chest. He's screaming, shrieking, trying to jerk away from me. ”Shut up!”
Next I cut a 'U'.
Between yells he shouts, ”Dan-Daniel.”
”Not good enough,” I say, and focus on the letters I'm slicing over his chest. Blood stains his s.h.i.+rt, dripping from the tattered pieces. I watch some of it splatter onto the toe of my boot before I finish carving the 'Y.' I lean in and point the knife under his chin. ”That's what you are, a p.u.s.s.y,” I whisper into his ear.
”Daniel. Daniel Capes,” he shouts.
”Oh, so you do know?”
”Yes. Daniel's his. .h.i.t man. And then there's Fisher, I don't know his first name, but he's a cop, and the only other one I know of is Simon DeLucas.”
”So,” I say as I lock my eyes with his and feel a coldness creep through me, ”why did you give Tor up?”
His brow scrunches. He doesn't know who Tor is.
”Victoria, you dumb-f.u.c.k. Why would you do that?”
His face crumples and he shakes his head. ”Joe said he'd kill her if I didn't.”
Hanging my head, I mutter, ”She was dead no matter what you did.” I look up at him. ”You didn't even try to save her.”
”Did she suffer?” he asks. I have to shut my eyes at that question.
”What the f.u.c.k do you think?” I ask as I wipe the b.l.o.o.d.y knife over my jeans.
His eyes slam shut and tears pour down his face. ”I loved her.”
That comment enrages me. He loved her yet he gave her up, he bowed to the wishes of his uncle?
I grit my teeth. ”How hard did you beg for her?”
He opens his eyes, regret swimming in them as he stares at me. He didn't beg for her. He didn't fight for her. He is a coward. A selfish p.u.s.s.y.