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“Who won the Uri-will-fuck-it-up bet, though?” Michael asks. He hates those bets!

“What the fuck! I didn’t!” I growl. Is this the wager Linda was talking about?

“Oh, you did.” Ollie sniffs.

“Ren won,” Raph replies. “He chose today.”

“Bunch of idiots,” I mutter. They’re lucky I’m busy preparing myself for Trent the fucker. I want to focus all of my twisted thoughts on him.

“Where’s Hunter?” Sari asks Ollie. His voice is weak, slightly raspy.

“With the triplets. They went on one of their animal liberation missions.”

Ezra comes out of the lab—he’s been inspecting it for the last thirty minutes—and stops near me. I told him I want answers, so with the others, we decided to bring him here.

Rague and Rami are on their way back from the cottage. They had to stay behind to make sure the flames didn’t reach the forest.

“Is nobody going to talk about the doppelgänger elephant in the room?” Lori suddenly asks. “I mean, there’s two of them now! My hot-twins fantasy would be alive if they weren’t both Uri, ugh.”

“I’m not Uri,” Ezra states as I send a glare Lori’s way.

He pouts, patting his curls as he salaciously says, “So, doppelgänger, tell us about yourself. Every scandalous detail.”

“That’ll take a lifetime to recount.”

“Ah! Thought all psychos were ornery.” Lori’s hand waves in Raph’s direction.

“Gabe, you can do much better.” Raph’s taunt earns him a flipped finger.

The gremlin turns to Sari, who’s writing something on a notepad. “A little suggestion. Ass grabbing is an important part of every relationship. Who needs a love letter when you can just smack it and say’I’m happy this beauty is fucking mine.’”

Gabe suddenly spanks his fiancé’s ass.

“Hey!” Lori lets out.

“I’m happy this beauty is fucking mine,” Bez teases him.

I move toward Sari; one arm wraps around his waist, while my hand grabs the notepad.

“It’s time,” I tell him. He said he wants to be in the FUNS room when I work on the fucker. I look into his turquoise eyes. They’re red, he keeps blinking. Did he change his mind? He should lie down. I’m about to push him toward the lab when he gives me a sharp nod.

Well, he wants to make more decisions. This is me not interfering—in a controlled and limited space.

We walk into the FUNS room, followed by Raph—since revenge kills are never done alone, part of the code.

“Is he even alive?” Ollie asks, looking at Trent’s unmoving, bloody body on the table.

Sari replies, “I-I didn’t kill him. I just subdued him. The rest is up to Uri.”

He more than tenderized the fucker for me. It’s more fun when I’m the one to break the donor. “There’s still a lot I can do,” I say as I press against Trent’s eyelid with my thumb, applying increasing pressure.

Eye gouging is painful, but really it’s the psychological torture I’m more interested in right now. Being abruptly woken up by excruciating pain, his brain can’t process anything else. It’s telling him to make it stop, to move away. But he cannot move, terrified to death, overwhelmed by the agonizing sensation, the only thing he can do is take it and bleed.

“We all bleed the same; it’s how we react to the blood that differentiates us, isn’t it?” I declare in a flat tone, just to let him know who is inflicting the pain.

My thumb sinks into his eye ball, ripping a glass-shattering scream out of his lungs.

“You’ve never felt real suffering before today. You touched what’s mine, hurt him, tried to take him from me. Pain will be the only companion in your last moment on earth. And it’s going to be a very long moment, dipshit!” I remove my thumb and grab the wet tissue from the table to clean it.