Page 93 of Loving the Tormentor

"Who did you hurt?"

Behind the phone, Achilles raises his hand, doing a horizontal twirl with his index finger to nudge him to keep talking.

"N-Nyx. Nyx Mayer."

Achilles nods, almost giddy as he whispers his line to Bennett, "Achilles Duval's girl."

Bennett repeats the words like a puppet, his face twisted from pain. And I watch with an open mouth as Achilles makes him say anything he wants, losing his mind over a bruise. Bennett, a man who used to scare me, who always hated me and went along with Chase's bullying, becomes nothing but a ragdoll repeating that his situation is what happens when someone messes with me.

When he's done, Achilles takes a selfie with Bennett, smiling brightly in it.

"That's really just to show you how invincible I am," he tells Bennett. "I'll put my face on the picture of the crime. You won't be able to see it, but I promise you nothing’s going to happen to me."

"Cheese!" he exclaims as Bennett wails some more. He pulls away again. "I bet you have a lot of numbers on here. Mostly to North Shore friends, huh? Let's just send it to everyone."

His breezy tone is really the most terrifying thing about all this.

"My mom," he cries. "Please, my mom…"

Achilles turns to me. "Has he still got both parents?"

I nod mindlessly.

"A bad day in the Bennett family, am I right? If only you hadn't hurt Nyx." He shakes his head, pretending like he doesn't have a choice. "But anyway." He taps on the phone. "All done."

Throwing the phone to the floor, he faces Bennett.

"Lesson learned?" he asks him.

Bennett nods. "Yes. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Nyx. Please, let me go. Let me go." He bursts into sobs again. "Please, please, please. I learned my lesson."

"I'm glad," Achilles answers.

The movement is swift, violent, unstoppable. The knife slices through Bennett’s throat, opening it widely as blood flows out.

My scream must resonate over the whole town as I turn away, hiding my eyes with both hands.

"Oh my God!" I shriek. "Oh my God. Oh my God."

I scream again when a hand gently touches the back of my head.

"God would have had mercy,mon trésor.I don't."

His hands are covered in blood as he forces mine away from my face.

"Protecting you makes me hard."

I shake my head, taking a step back.

"Are you scared?" he asks, voice low, following my retreating steps.

There's no point in lying. A dead man is hanging upside down less than ten feet away from me. I'm fucking terrified.

I nod, blinking away tears, and I don't get to take another step as two hands clamp around my waist.

He tsks, his predatory smile spreading. "You're not escaping this."

"There's nothis. Nothing’s going to happen."