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He knows exactly who I am, but with my mask in place and a hoodie pulled up to cover my hair, my identity is hidden fromhim. And from the camera still rolling in the ceiling. I could have easily spliced the video feed to show a loop of the room staying dark, but I want Alexander to see this. I want him to know it was me who took out the bastard who thought he could touch my woman. Savina is more mine than she’ll ever be Alexander’s.
“You look fucking pathetic, Shane,” I say. The sound of my voice isn’t my own, courtesy of the voice modulator I’m using.
His one good foot gives out, and the weight of his body falls on his arms. I’m sure that felt great on his dislocated shoulder. He cries out, his head tossed back, and his body swings around.
I stand in front of him five feet away, one hand casually resting in my pants pocket, and watch as he swings back around. He somehow manages to regain his balance on his uninjured foot.
“What do you w-want from m-me? I t-told Alexander everyth-thing I know.”
“Oh, for sure. Whoever hired you was smart enough to keep their identity a secret because A, they knew you’d give them up at the first threat of pain. And B, they knew there wasn’t a chance in hell of them surviving if you did give up their name.”
“So you know I did everything I could to help.”
“Yep. You were a good little boy, Shane, even as you pissed down your leg while you told Alexander everything you knew.”
His facial features lose some of the scrunched-up panic look, and he blows out a shaky breath. “I’m so glad you believe me.”
I smile behind my mask, my cheeks stretching wide, even though he can’t see it. “Of course, I believe you. Why wouldn’t I? I mean, you knew Alexander would kill you if he caught you in a lie.”
“S-so, he didn’t send y-you to k-kill me?” he stutters.
I stick my hand in the pouch of my hoodie. “No, Shane, he didn’t.”
He drops his head back and his one functioning eye closes. Like he’s sending up a prayer of thanks to the Man upstairs.
It’s all so amusing to watch. It tickles my fucking balls to think this man actually believes he’s off the hook and he’ll leave this room alive. I let him have his moment of peace.
Because I’m about to destroy it.
I move forward a step and pull out the dagger I have in my hoodie. It’s identical to the one I gave Savina, but with one difference. Whereas I’ve dulled the blade on hers, this one I’ve sharpened.
When Shane lifts his head and he sees I’ve moved forward, it only takes him a moment to notice the dagger. His eyes widen, and his complexion goes from an ashen white to a pale green.
“Y-you’re cutting me down, right?” he asks.
The question is a stupid one since he’s not tied to the ceiling by rope, but by a length of chain. He knows this, but he’s so desperate that his brain isn’t computing properly.
“Sure. I’m going to let you down,” I tell him.
I approach him slowly, letting his brain build that uncertain anticipation. It makes me so fucking happy to see the hope form in his eyes, because when the realization finally hits of what’s really going to happen, that arrogant emotion will turn to terror.
That’swhat I anticipate.
I stop when there’s only a foot of space between us. I look at him through the eye holes in my mask. Even with him on his tiptoes, he’s still several inches shorter than me, so he’s forced to tilt his head back.
“W-wait. Wait,” he pants. His tongue darts out and licks away the blood and snot that’s covering his lips. “Y-you need a key.” He jingles the chain as best as he can. “You can’t cut through the chain.”
Again, my lips curve into a smile. Pulling the key out of my pocket, I dangle it in front of his face. “I know.”
I put the key back in my pocket. And that’s when realization begins to trickle in. That green paleness comes back, and his good eye widens so much he manages to open the swollen one a crack. The chain rattles as he tries to push away from me.
“Y-you said you w-were l-letting me go.”
I step up to him until our chests are nearly touching. “That’s the plan, Shane,” I tell him, the voice modulator making my voice come out a growl.
I lift the knife and set the tip to the hollow of his throat. I apply just the merest of pressure, and a bead of blood forms and trickles down his chest.
“I have every intention of releasing you from these chains.” He screams when I push the tip in deeper. He’s honestly being a bit dramatic. I only pushed it in a centimeter or so. I don’t want to puncture his trachea because I don’t want him dead yet. “Just as soon as I take from you what you were going to take from me.”