Page 87 of Creeping Lily

“What do you want?” he spits, every word soaked in venom.

I close the distance before he can blink, grab his arm, and wrench it behind his back until a raw cry tears from his throat.

“What do I want?” My voice is low, steady. Deadly. “I want to bury whatever faith I had left—in you. You and your kind have taken the last scrap of hope I had for humanity.”

He snarls like a cornered animal, lunging as if he can still land a hit, then tries to spit in my face. I catch him by the hair, yanking his head back hard enough to make his eyes widen. I force him to meet my gaze, and what I see there isn’t fear—it’s defiance.

And that defiance? It only feeds the fire already burning in me.

“Stupid cunt! You think you have what it takes to stop me?” I sneer, my voice a low growl.

With a burst of fury, I throw him across the room. He scrambles up, grabbing a broom like it’s a weapon, but he doesn’t stand a chance. Before he can move, I’ve opened my pocketknife and thrown it, the blade embedding in his wrist. He howls in pain, dropping the broom as blood spurts from the wound.

“Money…” he croaks, nodding toward a side door.

“I don’t want your dirty money,” I snap, advancing on him.

“What—what do you want?” His voice wavers, his bravado crumbling.

“Your ledger,” I say, each word heavy with menace. “Where is it?”

“What…?” His face contorts with feigned confusion, but my hard glare tells him there’s no room for games. “Will you leave?” he asks?

I grimace cruelly. Stupid, defective man.

“The nature of your death,” I hiss, “depends on whether I get what I came here for. You can make this easy or hard. Choose.”

“Fucken mo…”

I backhand him before he can finish his sentence. He goes flying across the room, hitting his hand against the floor. The pocketknife loosens and dislodges from his wrist. His blood starts to gush like a geyser, causing him to pale. His death is inevitable. But it will be slow.

“Here, let me bandage that for you,” I say, my voice dripping with fake kindness, the kind that’s more insult than offer.

I snatch a filthy hand towel from where it hangs off the oven door—stiff with old stains and smelling faintly of grease—and wind it tight around his wrist. The blood pushes up instantly, soaking into the fabric, spreading like ink in water. It’s thick, dark red, and watching it stain the towel sends a twisted satisfaction curling in my chest. From the way Larry swallows hard and turns pale, it’s making him sick. Good.

“Time’s running out, Shine,” I tell him, my voice low and deliberate. I make sure his name rolls off my tongue like a sentence being passed. It’s not just a reminder that I know who he is—it’s a promise.

That’s right, Larry. The game’s over.

“Who are you?” he whispers, leaning his back against a wall.

“I’m your redemption,” I hiss. “This is your last chance to make amends before you meet your maker.”

“You’re not God,” he stammers, and I have to wonder if he’s starting to lose his lucidity.

“No. No, I’m not. I’m the devil you know.”

I tilt my head and smile at him cruelly. At least he and his wife will be travelling together. Evil begets evil.

“Fuck off,” he hisses.

I drop down onto the floor across from him, folding myself into a lazy sit with my knees pulled up, my arms draped loosely over them. I watch him like I’ve got all the time in the world, my gaze steady and unhurried.

After a moment, I shift, crouching forward so we’re almost eye level. My voice is calm, casual—like we’re two old friends catching up instead of sitting in the middle of a blood-stained mess.

“You ruined my fun, Larry,” I tell him, my tone light but edged with steel. “I was expecting a fight—something to get theblood pumping, make it worth my time. Instead, I get this…” I gesture at him with a flick of my hand. “A pathetic, spineless coward who’s just going to bleed out and rob me of what I came here for.”

I tilt my head, letting the disappointment drip from every word. “You know what? Next time I take a job, I’m going to start asking for references on my… projects. If I’d known I’d be stuck with this sorry excuse, I would’ve turned it down without a second thought.”