Page 115 of Captive Audience

“No. She tried to push me away. She—she told me to stop, and I didn’t.” Snot, blood, and tears streaked his face as it twisted in pain.

A beat passed, then I flicked open my blade. “Time to pay for your sins.”

I pinned his good hand to the pillar, and he tried to wrestle it free. “You said you’d let me go.”

I raised a brow. “Did I?”

“Doesn’t sound like something you’d say,” Aidan replied.

“Just be thankful I’m not cutting your dick off and feeding it to you.” I pressed the blade to the base of his pinky and sliced.

He howled, but I took my time. Blood jetted onto my cuff.

“It’s easier when you break the bone first,” Aidan said loud enough for me to hear over Holbrook’s commotion.

I paused and cast my cousin an unamused look, pointing the blade at him. “I fucking know that. I don’t want this to be easy for him, do I?”

Holbrook thrashed. “Stop, please?—”

“Shut your fucking mouth.” I shoved the blade into his nostril and carved up through cartilage.

He shrieked again.

I returned my attention to Aidan. “As I was saying, I’m quite happy letting this arsewipe flap about while I take my time, all right?”

Aidan gave a sweeping gesture. “All yours, then.”

One by one, I took off each finger that had touched Asha tonight.

Holbrook crumpled to the floor, keeping his mangled hand close to his chest while the broken arm hung limp.

“You ready to finish this?” Aidan asked.

“Aye. I want to go home to my wife.”

Aidan gestured to the severed fingers on the dusty floor. “What are you going to do with those?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Shove them up his arse for all I care.”

His eyes shifted between the digits and the piece-of-shite journalist at our feet. “Fuck that. I have a better idea.” Aidan jerked his chin toward the elevator shaft.

Nice. Saved us from lugging this twat’s corpse down twenty flights of stairs.

I hauled Greg upright while Aidan pulled away the plywood covering the shaft.

He leaned over and peered down. “Long way to the bottom.” Then he collected a couple of fingers from the floor and held them to Holbrook’s mouth. “Say ah,” he said cheerfully.

Weasel Face kept his lips sealed tight.

“Stubborn fuck.” I pinched his nose.

The second his mouth opened to gasp, Aidan shoved the fingers in deep. Greg gagged and tried to spit them out, but Aidan clamped a hand over his mouth.

I held Holbrook over the open shaft by his bloodstained lapels, my eyes feral and unblinking. The last thing this bastard would ever see.

But I didn’t want him thinking of me. I wanted him to understand that his life was over the moment he laid a hand on my wildfire.

“This is for Asha,” I growled.