Page 46 of Exile (Dance with My Demons #4)

Grey

Sometimes we take for granted just how nice the fresh night breeze can smell in summer.

The wind dances around in soft whispers, and when the wet belch interrupts the night sky, I nearly enact my plan early. This fucker is killing my vibe when I should just be killing him.

He wasn't hard to hunt down. People rarely change. When Avery gave me the minimal details she knew, such as the name of the bar her father frequented and his friend's first name that violated her, I found him within hours.

And that's being generous.

I was much quicker—I just took my time to make sure I was one-hundred percent certain.

After waiting for him to arrive at the bar like clockwork, I got to work, pulling up the fake Tinder profile I'd created with Theo.

Of course a good-for-nothing sleaze like him couldn't resist swiping right on a young, beautiful girl. Once a predator, always a predator .

Just how stupid must you be to believe everything you read online.

In a world full of social media and catfishing, the older generation still hasn't quite grasped the fact that they are the easiest to scam.

So much for their generation telling us not to talk to strangers and if something is too good to be true, it probably is.

It was easy to lure him into the open. Martin Goldsberg thinks he's meeting eighteen year old Jessi tonight.

He wandered out of the bar, stumbling over his own feet at the exact time I told him too.

Judging by his poor coordination, he didn't understand the instructions as to our meeting location, but given he's a pathetic excuse for a man and lack of ability to grasp consent, I'm not surprised.

Two single letters, one small word.

No.

I'm nothing if not a teacher. By the end of tonight, he'll have a firm understanding of the word. I'm already taking bets on how many times he'll mutter those words himself, desperate for them to have meaning.

The alleyway is dark, bricks wet from the earlier rain. He's stomping so heavily that he can't hear me behind him, following in the shadows.

When he finally reaches a dead end, confused and lost, I step out into the light, shiv in my hand.

"Who's the fuck are you?" he slurs, tripping over sideways as his eyes narrow on me .

"I'm your worst nightmare, pumpkin. Consider me the grim reaper, coming to collect."

Martin's flabbers are gasted, eyes widening and squinting rhythmically like he's having some kind of electrical shortage. He still has no idea I've just led him into a trap. To him, I'm a cockblock, standing in his way of meeting his next conquest.

"Move aside, son," he says, and although I know the words are nothing more than a seniority thing, it cuts deep, spilling open my own wounds.

"I wouldn't try that," I tell him, nodding my head toward his staggering frame as he attempts to move around me.

One step, two step, three step… floor. Well, ground. Martin finally loses his footing, colliding with the brick wall as he clings to it and fights to stay upright.

It's pathetic really. Part of me hoped for a decent fight rather than a mercy killing.

Because even though I plan to mutilate him, it is a merciful killing.

If I had it my way, I'd escort him back to Damon's house—our house—locking him downstairs in the basement.

Every day I'd visit, inflicting new harm and injuries while inhaling his non-consensual pleas and begs.

But Deadman ruled against me, claiming I wasn't bringing that trash into his mother's house.

And in fairness, I conceded quickly. That's the house we're going to make memories in while honoring Lily's legacy. It doesn't deserve to be tarnished. But that doesn't mean this scumbag gets to walk free .

I promised Avery in the beginning that I would hunt him down.

If her father was still alive, I'd be tempted to re-enact Theo's sister's tribute in some twisted fashion.

They both deserve to suffer but her father already got his karma.

As much as I wished it was at my hands, I'm secretly pleased that his life was cut short by Avery. It's symbolic—trauma aside.

"I got no time for you, kid. Fuck the move away," Martin slurs again, and my nose wrinkles at the visible beer dribbled down his shirt. This is essentially a public service—a community blessing. There's no way this man needs to be alive, he's a disgrace to human beings everywhere.

At this point I realize he hasn't spotted my clearly visible shiv. It's my favorite one, barely away from me at any given time. I made it just for Avery in Lilydale, and I couldn't think of a more fitting item to end dear Martin's life with.

I step closer, resisting the urge to gag when his body odor hits me. It smells as if he hasn't showered in weeks, other than in cheap liquor.

Cars pass by on the main street, unable to see us down here but close enough that I'll have to be quick. Once again, I hate that idea. I want to draw it out and make him suffer—but beggars can't be choosers.

Finally, his eyes scan my body, stopping on the shiny blade in my hand. "What's that thing?"

I offer him a tight smile, taking a breath as I get ready to recite my hard prepared speech .

"You were an acquaintance of Joshua White," I start, pausing as I search for recognition in his hazy eyes. He's slow, but it's there, a light in the otherwise empty vessel.

"Joshie White? What 'bout him? He's dead."

"I'm aware of this fact," I comment calmly. "And you're about to join him."

Realization dawns on this flaccid goldfish, eyes darting between myself and the shiv. Instantly, he tenses up, that alcoholic rage getting ready to rear its ugly head. I'm all too familiar with it, having dealt with my fair share of lunatics—substance abusers or otherwise.

Sweaty palms curl into fists, a moment of lucidity falling over him as he sizes me up. Sure, he has the weight advantage, but I have something he never will—the desire to turn my girl's rapist into maggot compost.

He'll never touch Avery again. Never steal moments from her that don't belong to him—or anyone.

I clock him coming at me before he's even moved, tipping the shiv up as he lunges through the damp alleyway. The squelch of tearing flesh is music to my ears, my hand against his potbelly as I wiggle the shiv around.

Where's that bravery now? The one he had when impaling his wrinkled sausage into innocent girls? Not so tough when I've got him impaled on my stick…

There's a gargling sound, followed by choking as I twist the shiv upwards, aiming straight for his ribcage. I hit bone at first, gripping his shoulder to steady him as I jerk it around carelessly until I feel something else—hopefully a lung.

Blood gushes and weeps from the wound, the would-be circular entrance a now jagged line as I use all my strength to carve his flesh.

Withdrawing the dripping blade, I plunge into his throat. I deliberately aim for his thyroid—the right side because I'm a sucker for symmetry and shit—before piercing it through his left shoulder. Balance.

His knees start to buckle but I'm not ready to end this yet. "Oh, no you don't Marty," I tsk, shoving him backwards to push him against the wall. "You need to know why I'm doing this so that when you descend to the depths of Hell, it's on your conscience."

I wait for him to speak, realizing that I've probably severed his vocal cords—oops.

Sighing, I get to the point. "Avery White," I say clearly so there's no mistaking who I'm here for. "You took something from her because of your dear old buddy. And now, I'm taking your life from you."

Dark blue eyes widen at me, my grin wide as he lands on the same page. That's it… think of her and all your regrets as you leave this earth.

"I'm going to go home shortly," I tell him, slowly pulling the shiv out of his body.

"And while you're here, dying and being put out of your miserable existence, I'm going to fuck her over and over to ensure I erase all traces of you.

Then I'll burn your body with acid so that there's no traces of you physically either.

Life's a bitch, pumpkin. And that bitch is Grey. "

Delivering the final blow, I slice the shiv straight across his throat, doing a damn job better than my father. The line is somewhat perfect, at least from what I can see as blood pours out and he collapses on the ground.

Wiping the blade on my jeans, I tilt my head back, breathing in that sweet smell of death. It's so good, so satisfying.

A few minutes later, headlights appear at the end of the alleyway, heading my way. I lean against the wall, one foot resting on the newly deceased as the stolen van pulls up next to me.

"I thought we said to keep it clean," Theo grunts, leaning out of the driver's way and surveying the blood on the ground.

"What?" I ask amused. "It is clean by my standards. He's in one piece, isn't he?"

Theo sighs, getting out of the van and walking round the side to slide open the door. Together, the two of us lift the sack of shit and toss him onto the pre-prepared plastic tarp. Theo glances around at the ground with a disapproving look.

"You're lucky I brought chemicals with me," he scolds, shoving a container into my arms as he starts dousing the ground with another .

I grin. "I knew I could count on you, brother-in-law. Speaking of which, is Avery with Damon?"

Theo nods. "Yep. Righteous prick organized a pampering session— whatever that is meant to be."

Cackling, I just imagine Damon supervising a mani-pedi session, having Avery fawn over what color polish to choose. I wouldn't be surprised if we return and find his nails painted. I've been trying to convince him for years to give it a go. He'd probably give in to her just to spite me.

"Alright done," Theo exclaims, tossing the empty container on top of Martin. "Ready?"

I nod, screwing the lid back on. "Let's go conduct some scientific experiments to see how long it takes Martin to disintegrate into nothing."

Avery looks content and comfortable when we arrive back home. Deadman too—but if I tell him he looks cute with his head resting on her shoulder while she sleeps curled up under his arm on the couch, he may launch a cushion or knife at my head.

Even through the shadows, I can see his warning glare, daring me to call him out on his little romantic love nest. Reflections of flames dance around the room from the fireplace, creating illusions on the newly painted walls, and I take a moment to admire them again.

Avery picked the color, of course—a dark scarlet—which I tell myself was for me as a reward for her bedroom color.

"Aw, damn. We missed her," I groan as Theo stops next to me. He puts the cardboard box he's carrying on the floor and slinks out of his hoodie.

Narrowing his eyes at me, he scolds, "Told you not to make a fucking mess."

I shrug lazily. "It was worth it. Besides, we have every day with her for the rest of our lives."

"So, it's done?" Damon asks knowingly.

I nod. "And she still doesn't know?"

Damon smirks. "I told her you were out having a couple's massage."

"For fuck sake," Theo curses under his breath, stalking toward the kitchen. "What did I do to deserve this circus of horrors?"

"Murdered someone!" I call out cheerfully, careful as to not wake little killer.

"And you'll be next," he replies back without missing a beat before disappearing from sight.

When it's just the two of us, plus a sleeping Avery, I glance around, spotting a gift bag on the coffee table. My eyebrows shoot up, piqued with interest. "What's that?"

"Take a look. "

I stroll over, opening the top of the gift bag before swinging around to face him, holding back a laugh. "You didn't…"

"Did."

Lifting the brand new blender out of the bag, I grin. "Finally got my blender."

"For smoothies and shit though. No dicks."

"This is just perfect ," I murmur happily, putting it on the coffee table and heading over to the discarded box on the floor.

Damon groans. "Do I want to know why… ?"

I reach inside the box, lifting a plastic bag up. "Avery said she was thinking of getting a pet. So, I bought a goldfish on the way home!"

He rubs a hand over his face, shaking his head. I ignore his obvious excitement about our new roommate, popping the lid off the top of the blender. Upturning the plastic bag, I dump the water and goldfish through the glass rim.

"You know," I start, stepping back to admire my handiwork as the goldfish swims around, probably wondering where the fuck he is and why he's in a kitchen appliance and not a proper fish tank. "I think I'll call him Sam."