Page 27 of Cain

“Thank you, Mr. Manson,” he breathes, taking slow steps closer to me. “I will always remember that.”

“Where are you going?” I push him back.

“I thought you would let me go.”

“I never said that,” I taunt, sliding off my black leather belt, my movements slow and steady. I loosen my black tie, my collar falling open. “You have a debt to pay,” I growl, stepping forward. “And I’m going to enjoy every second of making you do so.”

“I-I don’t understand.” He stares at me with wide eyes.

“You said you’d do anything.” I tilt my head, a slow smile spreading across my face. He stumbles backward in a panic, crashing into the chair and dropping into it hard. “So, you owe me.”

He gulps forcefully, his breathing quivering even more.I enjoy this more than I should.

I hand him my belt, and he furrows his brows in question. “You will need it.”

“Why?”

I chuckle and stare him down from head to toe. Without drifting my eyes away from his, I take the handsaw from the table right next to us. “Take it.” I offer it with a smile.

He’s sweating so much, it’s dripping down his neck, soaking into his shirt, his whole body shaking like a cornered animal. His eyes keep darting around, wild and unfocused, searching for a door that isn’t there.

He doesn’t understand the depths of my damaged mind. He doesn’t know there’s no escape for him or for anyone who tries to hurt her.

Shaking, he takes the saw in his hand. “What do you want me to do?”

I extend my arm and hand him my belt again. He takes it, his eyes never leaving mine.

I hold his gaze and smile broadly. “I want your hand.”

“What?”

The boys around me remain calm, almost soulless. Landon, on the other hand, can’t hide his glee.

“I’m a little impatient, so let’s get it over with.” I put my hands into my pants pockets.

His emotions are conflicted, and it shows on his face. He’s smiling, but not really. “You’re kidding me.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” His breathing becomes erratic; he is panting, almost unable to control it. “Chop-chop!”

Landon chuckles louder, making him more desperate and confused.

“Do you think it’s funny?” Elijah asks him.

“Oh, I do!”

Elijah growls, trying to decide who to attack first. Damn, that’s my favorite show—seeing someone reach their breaking point.

The despair in their eyes.

The courage that finally takes over.

The buried darkness that we all hide within us, rising to the surface, feral and cannibalistic, like an animal instinct.

The primal need to survive.

He attempts to attack me with the saw, but in the blink of an eye, I shoot his thigh. He’s such a fool for believing he is smarter or faster than me. He groans with pain and kneels on the ground.

“You sick son of a bitch!”