Page 10 of Darkness Tempt Me (Bloody Desires #7)
Chapter nine
Mavik
Hunter walks into my plastic-covered kill room and eyes the mess around us. “They aren’t dead yet?”
A small smile tips my lips, not that Hunter can see it from behind my mask, but I’m sure he knows it’s there. I gesture toward Rian Burns’ limp body. “That one’s dead.”
“And O’Malley?” Hunter slips on his matching mask before approaching Tate O’Malley, another target from my kill list. Coming across two men from my list at the same time was a stroke of luck, and an opportunity I wasn’t going to pass on.
Tate is hanging from a hook in the ceiling, passed out, blood dripping onto the plastic below him.
His hands are zip-tied from behind. “He’s resting.
” I chuckle as I stand, making my way to the camera to readjust the angle, so Hunter isn’t in sight.
I already removed the sound of tonight’s events so that it records silently.
Hunter and I don’t collect any souvenirs, although one might argue that a video of the kill is a souvenir in itself.
For us, it’s insurance. We rarely kill together and never enter the camera feed at the same time.
Usually, we alternate kills. I’ll kill when Hunter has a huge court case, or he’ll kill when I’m in a very public meeting, or out of the country, giving us strong alibis.
It helps that Hunter and I are nearly the same height and build.
If anyone were to grow suspicious, we would release an anonymous video to the cops of one of our kills on a day we were seen elsewhere in public.
Hundreds of kills over the past eighteen years, backed up and saved into a secure network that no one can access but us. Who said money can’t buy you everything?
“Want me to take Rian off his hook and start breaking down the body? Or is he part of the show for numbnuts, here?” Hunter gives Tate’s body a push, causing him to swing on his hook.
“Go on, take him down. But chop him up right here within eyesight. Good ol’ Rian can still put on a show. Plus, I didn’t bother covering any of the other rooms with plastic, and I’m sure Tate will want to see what we’ll do to him when he’s gone.”
Hunter laughs, pushing Tate’s body again when he notices the man starting to stir.
“Why did you bless Rian with a quick kill, but not Tate?”
“Rian sang like a canary once I started cutting into him. Gave me the names of his most recent victims. Tate, on the other hand? He’s a stubborn asshole.
” Tate’s whole body gives a violent jerk at the sound of his name.
He blinks his eyes open and immediately starts sobbing; big, fat, useless tears.
“Fuck,” Hunter drawls. “I hate it when they cry like this.”
Tate’s gaze shifts, looking between Hunter and me.
“Ah, so you finally noticed there are two masked killers in the room.” I tap the hilt of my knife to his temple, close to his right eye.
His breaths are labored now, chest heaving once again. “Why—why are you doing this?”
Images of my pretty assistant with fear etched on his face flicker across my mind. “Because. It’s people like you that haunt the innocent even when you’re gone,” I growl. “It’s people like you who hurt others like my sweet Peyton, making it really fucking hard for them to heal.”
Hunter laughs, dangling a large ax in his hand, turning it enough so Tate can see the blade. “Peyton, again? Oh, Mav, he’s always on your mind nowadays. You really need to get laid, buddy.” He raises his ax and brings it down onto Rian’s dead body, effectively chopping off his arm.
Tate screams. “I don’t know a Peyton! I never touched him!”
I take my blade and viciously slash it through Tate’s cheek. “And you never will, you piece-of-shit rapist. Now,” I say, smiling behind my mask. “Tell me about Lydia Moore. Or better yet, let’s skip all your recent victims. Tell me about Sophia Blackwood.”