Page 91 of Loving the Tormentor

I take a deep breath. "What are we doing here?"

"Spreading the word," he says simply as he gets out.

He opens his door, and then the back door, dragging a barely conscious Bennett out of the car.

"You're one heavy motherfucker," he grunts as he pulls him across the cracked asphalt.

He disappears inside the warehouse for a good fifteen minutes, and I just sit here, knowing he's killing him behind those walls. I just want this to be over. I want to be somewhere safe and not have to deal with a murderer anymore. But my wishes aren't often granted when it comes to Achilles. The only thing that matters is what goes on in that crazy head of his.

He reappears with hands covered in blood and scratches the side of his head, smearing some in his hair. It’s so black that you can barely see it.

"Nyx, baby, what are you doing just sitting here? Come on in."

Come on in. As if he's inviting me for a drink at his house.

He strides all the way to the car, opening my door and offering me a bloody hand to help me jump out. How chivalrous.

Eyeing his hand, I press myself harder against the car seat.

"You're scaring me," I croak, looking up at him.

His head rears back, the shock real on face.

"Scaring you? You've never been safer. And the only time you'll be even safer is once I've passed the word all around the North Shore that the next person who touches you is going to end up like Bennett in there. Come on, join me inside."

He takes my hand, the slimy and warm texture of his skin making me feel sick. When he pulls me out, I'm forced to follow along as he walks back into the warehouse.

"Oh my God," I whimper the second my eyes land on Bennett. I turn my head away, not wanting to see the way he hung him upside down. So high that his head is at about my height, meaning it's about where Achilles's chest is.

"You really are a good girl, aren't you?" Achilles says with fascination.

"Does not being a murderer who tortures people make me a good girl? Or just a normal person?" I snap, my breath catching.

Still refusing to look past the exact point I know I'll see Bennett, I can see Achilles shrug, pushing his hair out of his way as he points a switchblade toward his victim.

"I don't know. It's just not very North Shore of you."

"Well," I say through gritted teeth. "It turns out, some of us are just living normal lives. How surprising."

"I have no intention of keeping you living a normal life. Normal life is for normal people, not for exceptional women like you."

I hear Bennett wake up, gasping before he starts crying out for help. There's a gargle, a cough, and Achilles says, "You look a lot less threatening like this. How about we use the occasion to learn some lessons here, huh?"

I startle when I feel a hand around my wrist. Achilles drags me with him, and the second I step in a puddle of red, I have no choice but to look up.

Too close.

I'm so close to Bennett I can smell his sweat and the copper scent of his blood.

"God, Achilles," I whimper, trying to pull away.

Bennett has two cuts around his collarbones that are dripping to the floor, and his wound from earlier is still bleeding. His arms are hanging below his head, his face practically purple from the blood accumulating there while he hangs by his ankles.

The chain holding him is pulled all the way to a lock on the wall, and Achilles laughs softly when he sees me eyeing it.

"Oh, no, no. Your naïve empathy is not getting him out of this." He whistles like a man calling his disobedient dog, and Bennett startles. "Look at her arm."

Still holding me by my wrist, he lifts my arm slightly, pointing his knife at the bruise, and I flinch.