Page 46 of The Ecstasy of Sin

I slip into the crowd, falling into step behind Simon, as he weaves in and out of moving people.

As I track him through the city, I reach into an inner pocket of my leather jacket and pull out a pair of black gloves.

Checking the tracking app on my phone, I can see that Wren is ahead of us. He must have eyes on her, because he’s picking up speed as she turns a corner. There’s an alleyway coming up on our left, and from the map on my phone, it’s a long one.

I jog to catch up with him, stepping up to his side, and using my shoulder to knock him into the alley. I follow, slipping into the shadows cast by the setting sun, and shove him deeper into the narrow space between the two buildings.

I toss a glance over my shoulder to make sure no one is watching us, before turning my attention back to Simon.

“What the fu—”

My fist connects with his jaw with enough force to knock the words right out of his mouth. He stumbles backward, and I grab him by the cuff of his jacket and throw him into a service corridor immediately to the left of us.

He falls to his hands and knees, groaning as gravel and broken glass carve their way into his bare palms. He lifts a hand to cradle the side of his face, falling onto his hip as he stares up at me with fear in his eyes.

“Please—”

I don’t let him finish begging for mercy. There’s nothing that can save him now, not when he’s a threat to my Wren. The sole of my heavy boot collides with his face, knocking him to his back with a grunt of pain.

Reaching behind me, I unsheathe my dagger and toss it into the air once before catching it again. I’m on him before he can orient himself, my blade slicing across his throat, as deep as I can press the razor sharp blade.

His blood flows like a river, an arterial pulse spraying heavy droplets across my chest. A violent jolt of pleasure shoots through me, settling at the base of my spine, and he collapses.

His arms jerk and twitch, hands lifting to press against his throat like he can somehow stitch his skin back together. With a cruel smile, I slap his hands away, before digging my own fingers into the gaping wound I just carved into his neck.

A gurgling sound echoes in the small space around us, and I lean forward as my fingers play with the gore of his ruined flesh.I dig into the layers of skin, fat, and muscle until I find his trachea, yanking it out of his throat so I can slice clean through it.

His body convulses, shaking violently, until his eyes roll back in his head and unconsciousness claims him.

I groan, dropping my head and letting the euphoria burn through me. His death is all over me, his blood coating my gloved hands.

I can’t stop myself from fantasizing about laying Wren down on top of him, and sliding between her thick thighs.

The mental image has my cock jerking behind my zipper, an orgasm looming, making me feel like a feral fucking animal about to come in my goddamn pants.

Wren.

She’s the fucking key. She’s everything.

Getting to my feet, I survey the carnage surrounding me, faced with the consequences of my impulsive actions. Pulling the ruined gloves off my hands, I stuff them into my pocket before reaching for my phone.

I open the chat between me and Ryker, and fire off a text message.

ME

Clean up service. Alley between Brunswick and Howland Ave. There’s a service corridor to the left, outof sight.

RYKER

What are you, the grim fucking reaper? Bodies are dropping all around you these days.

ME

What can I say? I’m an addict.

RYKER

Remember what I said about therapy? Fucking do that, you sick fuck.