Page 93 of Tear Me Down (Descent to Darkness Trilogy #2)

“You fucking thought, huh?” I taunt and slap his cheek three times in a ‘tsk, tsk’ motion.

The suffering in his gaze is a sight to behold, and now that he’s quiet, I’m already itching for more screams. I need to hear the pain he’s in, witness it like I’ll never see something as mesmerizing again, and commit it to my memory.

When I tell my love of the pain he endured, I want to be able to give her every detail and prove that I have indeed avenged her.

“P-please…” he begs, the sound coming out as nothing but a tortured whisper. “I can tell you things… About Avery…”

“Do you think I give a fuck about Avery?”

“You should… If you think this will end things… You’re wrong…”

I purse my lips and tilt my head, releasing a cooing noise from my lips.

“I don’t think anything. I’ll handle Avery, as well as Saccone and DeLuca.”

“You’ll never find them, until they find you…

If you thought I was a challenge, you haven’t seen anything yet.

I’ll help you… Please… Just stop this…” More tears cascade over his lids, and he shakes his head as he begs.

Perhaps if I were anyone else, if I were a better man, this would affect me somehow.

In another life, maybe this would have convinced me to hear him out, but as I’ve said before…

I’m not a good man.

“You want me to stop?”

He nods weakly.

“Did you stop touching my wife after she told you not to?” I don’t even recognize my voice anymore.

Something darker has taken hold, and it’s presenting itself, showcasing its emotionless bravado from behind a curtain.

“Did you stop cutting my wife after she cried out and her tears started to fall?”

He lets his head hang again, but I don’t give him a second to relax before I jerk it up again.

“Did you stop raping my wife after she mentally checked out?”

He stares into my eyes, finally accepting his fate. There will be no escape for him, and there’s nothing he can do to sway my decision. Information and begging won’t save him, and there’s no reprieve in sight. Just me and whatever hell awaits him when I finally allow him to die.

The next question is one that I need to know, but something I’ll never tell Ashia.

I never thought there would be something that I would hide from her, but if his answer to this is what I think it will be, there would be no going back for her.

None of this torture would matter to her, and she would never be able to look at the world the same way again.

Her healing may never come, and that’s not something I’m willing to risk.

“After you took her, did you know she’s pregnant? ”

His gaze never falters, but those corrupt eyes widen only slightly, revealing what I feared.

Those men must have seen the test in the bathroom and notified him after they arrived with her.

There’s no question about it now, and my retaliation will be dealt with double the intensity.

I look down at Daisy, and watch as she sits calmly, though not with the stiffness she shows when she’s called.

“Set.” I command her again, and her body goes taut, now ready for the other two commands.

“NO! No, no, no… Please… Not again…” He sobs again, thrashing around and shaking his head so harshly, he might give himself whiplash. I point the laser at his kneecap this time, on the opposite leg.

“Lock.” She rises up again, almost in an identical stance as the first time, and readies herself. Her teeth show through her trembling lips as she growls, and even though there’s traces of blood and flesh in the creases of her teeth, she’s ready to go again.

Hugo isn’t staring at me anymore, he’s staring directly at Daisy, trying to silently plead with her not to go through with this, but he’s got to know that the thought is ridiculous. Even if she could understand him, she would never break her loyalty to us.

“Engage.” She lunges a second time, latching her jaw onto his knee and jerking her head side to side.

His screams ring out once again, but the relief isn’t there this time.

Nothing but hatred is coursing through my veins, and as satisfying as it is to watch Daisy rip him apart, I can’t help but wish that I could do it myself.

It isn’t until Daisy rips his kneecap clean off do I call her down, and as she takes her relaxed stance, the cartilage hangs half out of her mouth like she’s debating on whether to eat it or not.

I don’t want to mess up her diet, knowing that her schedule is special because of what she does, so I instruct her to drop it.

Hugo has now passed out, and as I grab the burger press once again, I swiftly make my way over and hold it against his capless knee, causing him to jolt awake in agonizing screams. I imagine it won’t be long before his body tries to shut down, and I’ll have to use the adrenaline to keep him alive.

Perhaps giving Daisy a small break will do us both some good, and while she’s taking a breather, I can inflict my own damage.

After I peel the press away again, I walk back to the table and survey my options.

Countless instruments lay out before me, and yet, none of them seem worthy of the type of pain he deserves.

My body is trembling with a mix of emotions I can’t decipher.

I can feel the hatred, the despair, the self-deprecation, but it’s all counteracting my admiration for violence.

A tingle that once felt good is now soiled by the depth of his depravity, and the hole in my chest feels bottomless.

This never should’ve happened. He never should have been anywhere near her, and my men shouldn’t be dead.

I’m usually so vigilant and meticulous. Nothing gets past me.

I always have my shit together, forever the one that’s prepared for anything and everything, and somehow, I failed.

Everyone has said that I couldn’t have seen this coming, that there was no indication of the warehouse bombing or Ashia being kidnapped, but I should’ve seen it anyway, known that those scenarios were a possibility and prepared for them.

Of course, Hugo would sacrifice his own men to get me out of the way, and only having six men guard our home? Rookie mistake.

My heart starts to race again, creating a tightness in my chest that I can’t get rid of.

A heaviness that’s weighing down on my bones so elegantly that it’ll crush me before I can realize what’s happening.

There’s a cold chill that runs through the back of my neck and down my spine, fighting a battle with the fire in my chest, and as my muscles start to tense, it all becomes too much.

The physical pain meets with the torment in my mind and suddenly everything is too bright and too dark all at the same time.

There’s too little noise and too much, and the sounds of his whimpers and cries are suddenly comparable to nails on a chalkboard, pushing me over the edge.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I scream out and throw one of my knives in his direction, and he jolts as the blade sinks into the right side of his body. He screams again, and instead of feeling bad for my outburst, I only feel angrier.

I storm back over to him, making it in only two strides before I grasp his thick neck in my hand and start to squeeze, feeling the strain of his throat as he tries to swallow back a sob.

“I said shut the fuck up.” My free hand grips the knife and turns the blade, almost unwillingly.

If I can make him feel an ounce of the pain I do, then maybe, just maybe, some of this agony will go away.

The truth that’s been laying in front of me all along, but I’ve been trying to ignore.

The one that screaming right next to my ear, but instead I hear whispers and taunting words.

I’m not enough.

I will never be enough.

She deserves better.

It’s all my fault.

I put my wife in danger.

I put my baby in danger.

My men are gone.

Bradley.

Darren.

Jeremy.

The men at the house.

Nine graves will be marked with my failure.

Screams that will forever echo in my head.

DAMIEN !

“STOP IT!” I scream out as I yank the knife free and allow it to scrape across the floor towards the other side of the room.

My hands find their way to the sides of my head and hold on tight, working to contain the voices echoing in my mind.

Heavy breaths take over, and as my chest heaves, I focus on the sound, needing to climb back down from whatever height I’ve reached.

His gasps play behind me, but at least he’s finally stopped sobbing, and I can feel my heartrate begin to slow down.

Suddenly, I feel a nudge at the top of my leg, and I look down to see a bloodied Daisy rubbing up against me.

She whimpers softly, and nudges behind my knee as if she’s telling me to sit.

So, I kneel down and scratch behind her ears, feeling a comforting warmth as she nudges her head against my chest and towards my neck.

Normally, I’m sure she would be dry and clean when she comforts Darnell, but surprisingly, the cool slickness of the blood against my skin helps ground me.

I breathe in deeply, accepting the iron and sweat as my surroundings, and settle down.

This may all be my fault, but it’s not my doing.

He set all of this up. He commanded those men to take her, and he violated her without a second thought.

Regardless of my failures, he still needs to pay for his part, and I’ll be sure to pay for mine once the deed is done.

Giving Daisy one more pat, I stand back on my own two feet and grab the digit puncher off the table. There was definitely a better name we could’ve come up with when we made this, but at the time, I was feeling playful. Now, I’m anything but.

The torment now isn’t solely for him, it’s for me as well. A way that I can repent for my mistakes while being the executioner I’ve molded myself into.

“Tell me how you felt when you killed my men. Tell me every detail of their torture.” I slowly step up to him again, almost grimacing at the smell of his soiled and sweaty form, but I contain my disgust. He shakes his head side to side in quick succession, acting like he has a choice.

I reach up to grip one of his fingers, the middle one, and settle the puncher over top of it, so each end is pressing against the top and bottom of the tip.

“I said tell me.” I then squeeze the device in my grip, just like I would a hole puncher, but the sharp, razor circle in the middle does much more than hollow out paper.

It hollows out flesh instead. I hold it for just a moment as he hisses and gasps, then I release my hold and follow the tiny cylinder shape of his skin as it falls to the floor. “Who did you kill first?”

“The blonde one…” he spits out. “He went by Jared…”

“That was Jeremy. He’s been with us for four years.

” I follow up with my fact by punching three more holes into that finger, not quite making it through the bone, but deep enough to hit it and watch as the blood runs down his arm and drips onto his forehead.

“Why did you start with him?” He takes a harsh breath, probably realizing that if he screams or cries, that I would just punish him for it.

“He had a lesser rank than the other two… ”

“Ah, so one of those ‘best for last’ scenarios?” I release his hand and walk back over to the table, looking over my choices.

“Let’s start with what you did to him first.” He whimpers again, and I just turn to look at him.

“Either you can tell me and make this easy on yourself, or I can guess until I get it right. If that’s the route you choose, this is going to be a long night for us both. ”