Page 90 of Degradation (The Brethren Lords #3)

Devin

S he’s still in bed when I come back hours later, though I’m not surprised, she’s been through hell and that’s just the last few weeks. I don’t want to think about what Guthrie did to her, what o ther fucked up things he put her through beyond mutilating her genitals.

I wake her gently, she stirs, then jumps so high she almost hits the roof. Soon, really soon, she’s going to understand that she has nothing to fear now, that the only pain she’ll experience is when she’s begging me for it.

I get her up, get her dressed in some of the fresh clothes I acquired, and lead her from the room. She asks where we’re going, and I ignore the question entirely.

Down in the basement we have a special guest waiting for us. One I know will help soothe those old wounds.

We walk past Malik, past Mace and a few others.

None of them comment but they look at her, they watch her all the same.

When we get to our quarry, he’s strapped to a chair, just as I left him and he’s whimpering behind the gag like a little bitch.

Paitlyn stills as she hears the sound. If she could see, I’m certain she’d gasp in shock.

“Who, who’s there?” She asks, as if we’ve merely stumbled upon some poor unfortunate soul.

I take her hand, leading her forward, and gently I place it on the man’s face. I don’t want to ruin the surprise by announcing who’ve I got. No, it’s far better if she gets to do the metaphorical unwrapping, after all, where is the fun in opening a present, if you already know what’s inside?

Her fingertips brush his stubble, trace that slight wonk in his nose, and as they stop on the deep scar across one side, she stills entirely.

“Per, Pearce?” She half-whispers in horror. “He, what, why is he here?”

“You’re not convinced I’m on your side, so I thought a little persuasion was needed.”

“How does this prove anything?” She hisses back.

“Think,” I growl. “He was the one who colluded with Gunther, he was the one who ensured you’d be picked because he wanted to use your bloodline to further his power.”

She draws in a deep rattling breath. “You don’t know…”

“Yes, I do,” I cut across her. It’s more than obvious that that is what happened.

Pearce and her mother aren’t Founders. Paitlyn is one through her paternal line, they both severely underestimated Gunther’s mental capacity because they were obviously convinced they could somehow rule through him, as if that would ever be possible.

She shakes her head as a silent tear streaks down her cheek. I know it’s not for him, not for her uncle, and yet it pisses me off all the same.

“Why isn’t he talking? Why isn’t he saying anything?” She says.

“He’s gagged.” I point out. “But if you’d prefer to hear him beg, I can fix that for you.”

She shudders, taking a step away, only, I grab her back, snatch her back, and hold her so that she’s pressed into me.

“You’re not the weak, docile creature they forced you to be, Paitlyn.

I know it and you know it too. How long are you going to allow people to continue to use you before you finally fight back? ”

“I, I…” She stammers as her hands clutch at my t-shirt.

“I know inside there’s something dark, something as twisted and fucked up as me, it’s time you embraced that, time you let all that anger and rage out.”

“I can’t.” She snaps.

“Yes, you can.”

She screws her face up, giving me such a look of disdain, “Oh yeah? And how do you think I can when you took my sight? When you took my fucking eyeballs?”

I grin, hearing the fury finally starting to erupt in her. It’s about fucking time.

“You may not wield the blade, malktā, but I’m more than happy to do the dirty work for you. I’ll kill them all, I’ll butcher every last one of them, I’ll leave the world drowning in blood if that’s what it takes for you to be happy for just one moment.”

“That, that’s not happiness.” She replies. “That’s fucked up, that’s…”

“Love. Devotion. The truest form of worship there is.” I growl back.

“How many times has God demanded we sacrifice for him? How many wars have been fought in his name? How many people slaughtered, and lands claimed? I will do all that and more, I will be your most loyal follower, your most devoted priest, if you let me.”

I can see the way she’s trembling at those words, the way she’s trying to wrap her head around it.

“And if I do?” She whispers. “If I…” She falters, turning her head in the direction of where her uncle is now starting to twist and jerk and really make some noise. “If I do that, I become like you, I become a monster.”

My lips pull into a grin at those words. “You think being a monster is a bad thing?” I reply. “Would you rather be something everyone feared or something everyone knew they could walk all over; they could easily break?”

She winces as the weight of those words clearly sinks in. “He used to bully me, belittle me, even when I was helpless child.” She states. “He never saw me as a person, he just saw what he could get from me.”

“So, isn’t it time you made him pay for it?” I ask.

She nods, slowly at first, hesitantly too. And that’s all the go-ahead I need. I stride towards him, pulling out a flip knife, and I start cutting, carving, slicing off bits of his flesh.

He screams, of course he screams, pathetic waste of space that he is, he doesn’t even try to be brave for a moment.

I rip the gag from his mouth and those pitiful sounds echo around us both, and they sound like a song, like a eulogy to all the pain and suffering Paitlyn has endured because of this waste of space.

I glance back at her, at where she’s stood, her expression now one of awe as she hears everything that’s going on.

Not for the first time, I wish she could see, I wish she could witness this.

I begin describing each slice, each cut, going into detail about the way his blood trails down, about the way he flinches and recoils and how he begs for mercy.

Oh, I have no intention of giving him it.

No intention of killing him anytime soon.

He’s going to endure weeks of this, he’s going to bleed and bleed, and only when Paitlyn decides it’s been enough, will I finally end it for him.