Page 144 of Venomous Desires

Visibly flinched at his night.

His smile was savage now, his eyes dark with something primal, something monstrous. He yanked the blade free, the sound wet and sickening, before spinning on his heel and plunging the knife into the throat of another man who’d barely managed to raise his gun.

More gunfire erupted. The world became a cacophony of violence, but Judas—he was dancing. That’s what it looked like. A bloody, brutal dance. He moved with the grace of a predator;every step measured, every strike lethal. His blade flashed again, cutting through muscle and bone with sickening ease.

I didn’t know if it should be praised or feared.

Blood sprayed across the room, coating the walls, the floor, and my skin.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. My vision tunnelled, my stomach churning as bile rose in my throat. The metallic stench of blood filled my senses, overwhelming and suffocating.

And then I felt it—a solid body pressing against mine, pushing me back, away from the chaos. I stumbled, barely catching myself as I was shoved behind a broad, familiar figure.

Kyle.

His voice was low, steady, despite the madness unfolding in front of us. “Stay behind me.”

I tried to speak, tried to find words, but all that came out was a strangled gasp. My hands shook violently, my legs threatening to give out beneath me. But Kyle didn’t let me collapse. He was a wall between me and the horror, his body shielding me from the worst of it. But I could still see everything.

Judas’s knife slammed into the chest of another man, and he twisted it with a gleeful snarl, relishing the way the man’s body jerked and convulsed. The sickening crunch of bones and him killing them mercilessly.

“You’ll die!”

“Is this it?” Judas laughed, his voice a dark melody, mocking. “This is the best you can do? Five little lambs with their shiny guns, thinking they could fucking take me down? I expected more, honestly.”

One of the remaining men fired wildly, but the monster in front of him moved faster than the bullet, ducking low before springing up and slashing across the man’s gut. The blade tore through flesh and muscle like butter, and the man screamed, clutching his stomach as his insides spilled out onto the floor.

I pressed my palms against my ears and shook my head.

No, no, no. Please. Stop. Stop it!

But I could still hear his voice followed by a loud laugh. “Come on! At least make me work for it!”

The last two men faltered, their fear palpable. One tried to back away, his gun trembling in his hands, but Judas lunged forward, grabbing the man by the throat. He lifted him effortlessly, his fingers digging into the man’s flesh as he squeezed, the man’s eyes bulging with terror.

“There’s a saying,” Judas whispered, his voice soft but filled with malice. “The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots...” His grip tightened. “Or in this case, fuckers.”

And he snapped the man’s neck. The body dropped to the floor like a sack of meat, lifeless and broken.

The last man stood frozen, his eyes darting wildly between Judas and the door, as if trying to calculate his chances of escape. Judas grinned, his teeth gleaming like a predator scenting blood.

“Run,” Judas taunted, his voice a sing-song mockery. “Run. Let’s see how far you can get.”

The man turned to bolt, but Judas was faster. His knife flew through the air with deadly precision, embedding itself in the man’s back with a wet thud. I gasped, pressing my pal against my mouth.

The man crashed to the ground, writhing in agony as Judas sauntered over, leisurely, like he was enjoying a pleasant stroll.

This man... was beyond everything.

He yanked the knife free with a sickening squelch, watching as the man gasped for breath, blood pooling around him. Judas crouched down, his face inches from the dying man’s.

“Don’t worry,” Judas whispered, almost tenderly. “It’ll all be over soon.”

And then, with one swift motion, he slit the man’s throat.

Blood soaked the floor.

He turned to me then, his eyes meeting mine over Kyle’s broad shoulder. A slow, twisted smile spread across his face, and he tilted his head ever so slightly.

“Are you still nauseous, little bird?” His voice was soft, almost teasing. “Or have I convinced you that there’s no one’s who can touch you besides me?”

I didn’t know when my hands stopped shaking. When the fear stopped feeling foreign. When the blood on my skin started feeling like it belonged there.

But when Judas smiled at me, I realized something far worse.

Maybe I was not afraid of him anymore; it was me that scared me.