Page 1 of Sadist (The Triarchy Collection #1)

Theo

“ Y ou fucking psychopath.”

I grinned at the sweating, crying man strapped to the floral yellow, blood-soaked lounge chair.

“I mean…undiagnosed, but the signs are definitely not in my favor, Derek.” I gripped his stubbled chin in my fingers, inwardly cringing at the unpleasant feel of it, and tilted his face up to me. “I can ask nicely?”

The coward flinched away from my touch; his skin clammy beneath my grip. I hadn’t even truly started playing with him yet, and he was already breaking.

Ugh.

Leaning in until his shallow pants brushed across my cheek, I gave him the sweetest, most unthreatening smile I could muster.

“Derek…Darling. I need the safe combination.”

“Get fucked,” he spat, straining against the binding around his chest. “She’s not getting a fucking cent.”

“Who…your wife?” I sat back, affronted. “ I don’t do personal contracts!

” I waved my knife over my shoulder. “Lianne is cooling off in your freezer. No, Pet. You pissed off The Triarchy and they sent me to collect. Honestly…Did you really think they wouldn’t keep a very close eye on their own accountants?

” I gestured around the room with my knife. “C’mon, this place…in this economy?”

His face froze, and apparently not with any concern for his—now—late wife, as his gaze flitted to where I knew his safe lay behind an oil painting on the wall.

“I can pay.”

I snorted. “You can’t. I checked.”

“I can get the money.”

“Nope. Trust me, I checked that as well.” I tapped the tip of my knife on my chin.

“Don’t lie to me. You were in the process of moving your property into a trust and your finances offshore.

You were about to run, weren’t you?” I tutted.

“And unfortunately for you, we need to send a very clear message to anyone else considering such abhorrent behavior. So, Derek—you get a little one-on-one with me. Aren’t you a lucky boy? ”

His denial mewled out on a whine, but I already knew the facts.

His estate would nearly cover what he owed…

his shareholdings would most likely tip the balance back in The Triarchy’s favor again.

The digital files to his will had already been hacked and altered.

I just needed the hard copy that was in that motherfucking safe to be switched out with the ones in my satchel.

It still irked me that I hadn’t been able to get into it.

Lianne had fallen prey to that temper tantrum when she had wandered in moments after the safe had beeped its denial at me yet again.

She had pulled a gun on me, but I’d pulled mine faster.

The safe itself needed a nine-digit code to override its safety features once I had triggered them.

A nine-digit code that this prick still had in his head, and I was hungry, tired, and still a little sore from the beating I had taken during a job the night before.

“Nine little numbers, and I make this quick,” I crooned, running the tip of my knife along the underside of his eye. The skin parted like butter under the razor edge of my blade, and a tear of blood ran down his cheek.

“Please,” he moaned, his eyes wide and breathing ragged.

His piercing scream made my ears ring a moment later as I plunged the blade into his hand, pinning it to the cushioned arm of the chair, then I leaned back to survey my art.

Now both hands were impaled and twitching on the armrests, and I gave the right blade a little flick with my finger, pulling another wail from him.

I watched his face, entranced at the way his pupils contracted then blew wide as he screamed, a vein in his forehead popping out as his skin went red with exertion.

A low pulse between my thighs had me pressing them together, and I fidgeted on his lap, getting myself comfy as he thrashed and bucked uselessly under me.

God I love my job.

His screams faded to wet sniffles again as I ran a fingertip over the quivering knife blade.

“I can make it stop,” I said, taking a firm grip of the hilt, a pleasant little shiver running down my spine at the agonized noises he made. “Why don’t you start with the first four?”

When he was still silent, I slightly twisted the blade to a chorus of fresh screams.

“Just fucking tell me!” I snapped, my patience beginning to wear thin, and gave it a quick, vicious turn.

He convulsed, blood trickling from his mouth from where he had bitten his tongue, and I grabbed his face, making him look at me as I began to twist the blade back.

“N-n-nine,” he choked out.

“Atta boy,” I said, stilling. “Nine what?”

“S-sss—” He cut off, his gaze unfocused.

“Oh, don’t start that, for fuck’s sake,” I groused, giving his cheek a little slap. “Nine what?”

He gave a half-strangled moan, his eyes rolling, as beneath my finger, his pulse skipped.

I frowned, pressing my fingers to the side of his neck.

“Derek, don’t you go dying on me yet.”

He twitched, bloody foam forming at the corner of his lips, and I swore, ripping the blades from his hands and swiftly cutting the ties that bound him to the seat. I yanked him to the floor, putting my ear to his chest, and swore again when I couldn’t hear anything.

Twenty minutes I did CPR on that weak-hearted fuck. I had managed eleven years without my lips touching a man. I think I was darker about breaking my streak on him than anything else.

And he still died.

The fucking audacity.

Muttering less than complimentary things to his dearly departed soul, I pulled a can of spray paint out of my bag and quickly sprayed my three-pointed crown signet across his chest before pulling my phone out. I winced as I hit the call button, a low male voice answering after only two rings.

“It’s done?”

“I need a breaker.”

There was a grunt. “Model?”

I crossed the room and swung the painting open, frowning at the disgraced safe.

“Knox Elite. Thumb pad locked down as I was trying to crack it, and it needs a code override.”

There was silence on the end of the line for a second too long before the man spoke again. “How long since it locked?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, just shy of an hour?”

Another beat of silence. “You have roughly five minutes to extract yourself before the authorities arrive.”

“What?” I glanced over my shoulder to the window. “What are you on about? I did it clean. No witnesses.”

“Get your arse out of there and report back to headquarters,” he said.

“I haven’t got the hard copy,” I hissed. “The guy’s dead.”

“Let’s see how the golden child talks her way out of this one, then,” was all he said before the line went dead.