Page 30 of Dirty Deadly & Mine
“Wait! Stop! Please!” Omar begs through gritted teeth, his eyes darting from me to the blade protruding from his leg. “I told you everything.”
I laugh. And yes, it sounds a little manic, but that’s okay. It does its job, scaring this sick fucker even more.
“I never made a deal to spare your life, Omar. You gave that information up of your own free will, and now it’s time to have some fun.”
“What?” He shakes his head in disbelief, and I ignore him, wrapping my hand back around the hilt of my blade and reef it free.
He cries out again, and then I show his other leg the same courtesy, plunging my blade in deep as he screams like his balls have retreated.
“I want to do that!”
The request comes from behind me, and I turn slowly to see Freya stepping forward, her frantic eyes locked on my knife.
“You want to stab him?” I ask, and she nods.
“I want to make him hurt.”
I feel her words right to my core.
“Sure,” I say, bobbing my head in the direction of the kitchen. “Find yourself a knife and go for it.”
A sinister grin tugs at her cracked lips before she turns quickly, darting over to the kitchen.
Then, one by one, the other girls do the same.
Turning back to Omar, I shake my head.
“You know, pissing women off really isn’t a good idea. We are brilliant at vengeance. Men like you may be the brawn, but women are the brains, and in the end,wewill be victorious.” I lean closer, like I’m about to share a secret with him. “You should’ve thought about that before you went into business with the MacKenzie brothers.”
A strangled sob lodges in his throat, and when his fear-filledeyes dart over my shoulder, I know the girls are returning with their weapons.
Turning, I see Freya has found the largest knife she could. It probably came from a knife block, while some of the others are gripping smaller versions, and a couple have simple steak knives with a serrated edge.
Ouch. That’s gonna hurt.
“Oh, Omar.” I smirk, glancing back at him. “You really shouldn’t have pissed them off.”
“No! Wait!” Omar cries, but I ignore him, stepping aside and gesturing to Omar as the girls inch forward.
“Have at him.”
Freya moves fast, lurching forward to slam her knife into his shoulder. He cries out, and the beast in me hums with joy.
Stab.
Another girl joins in.
Stab.
And another.
Stab.
Laughing, I dance around as his screams engulf the room, all the girls now surrounding him and attacking him from all directions. It’s messy as hell, and I fucking love it. I love the brutality of it, and I love that these girls are getting their revenge. It’s theirs to take. Not mine. I won’t take that away from them.
As I bounce around, Omar’s screams turn into gargles as he starts drowning in his own blood, and the girls release their own screams as they unleash their anger on him.
Soon enough, he stops making any noise, and eventually, the girls, panting and exhausted, stop their attack, their heartbreaking cries filling the air.
