Page 7 of Reckoning

By the time I’m done with him, he’ll wish he’d left this city. He’ll wish he crawled away like the piece of shit he is and disappeared forever.

* * *

I can smellthe stench of him. The sweat as it pours off his body. The ammonia from where he’s pissed himself – they always piss themselves.

He’s been hanging here for only a few hours. If I had more patience I’d leave him in the dark for days.

I usually like to play with my toys, I like to torment, to torture. But when it comes to this, when it comes tothem, by the time I catch another I’m so riled up I don’t care to make it last. I just want to make sure it hurts. That every moment up until their last breath is one of agony.

His body sways from the shackles that keep him suspended high enough off the ground to ensure his feet can’t relieve any of the pressure.

His head hangs down with his chin resting on his chest. I pause watching him for a moment.

And then I raise my hand slapping his face hard enough to wake the bastard up.

He lets out a groan, jerking, his legs kicking wildly like he’s forgotten where he is, what this is.

“Wakey, wakey.” I murmur and the two men by the door snigger.

Old Danny boy starts whimpering. “Please.” He begs, “This is just a misunderstanding. You’ve got the wrong man.”

I grab his face forcing him to look me in the eyes.

“I don’t think so.” I reply.

“You have.” He shouts. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“And who do I think you are, Danny Campball?”

He gulps, his face paling as he realises I know his name.

“Please.” He says his eyes darting wildly from me to Colt and Reid like they have the power to step in. Like they’d do anything to help a man such as him.

I pull the knife from my belt, running the tip down his cheek, seeing as it slices through his flesh so perfectly, spilling his blood the same way he spilt hers.

“How does it feel?” I murmur. “To be on the receiving end?”

He shakes his head, acting like he doesn’t have a clue what I’m talking about.

“She’s my girlfriend.” He splutters like I’m still focused on the tourist he was about to rape.

“It’s not about her.” I reply.

He frowns his eyes staring at the blade I’ve got pointed right at his eye.

“Then who..?”

“You know who.”

He starts breathing faster. His eyes dilating as realisation hits him. “I have money.” He cries. “I have a lot of money…”

My laugh cuts across his pathetic pleas. “Not this time. You can’t buy your way out of this.”

I run the knife down, slicing his other cheek.

“Every bit of you that touched her, every miniscule scrap of your piece of shit body, I’m going to hack it out.”

“Please.” He screams out, throwing his head back and kicking those useless legs more. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t…”