Page 53 of The Sea Witch’s Son (The Villains of Wolf Hollow #1)
Chapter 52
MARLIN
I'm going to have to throw out this shirt.
The thought barely registers as I cut another strip of tissue from the man’s chest. He is down to one thumb and three fingers with about sixty-five percent of his body mass remaining.
The man is on the verge of shattering my eardrums with his screams for mercy, but it is not enough. His screams are not enough, his flesh is not enough, his fucking innards are not enough.
Nothing will be enough. Because he tried to take what is mine.
“I told you to fucking stop!”
“Did you stop when my little saint asked you to?”
Another surge of anger hits me as I dig the knife deep into his torso. He screams, but his anguished cries are not enough to keep me from spilling his large intestines across the pavement .
My rational state of mind is long gone as I attack him like a wild animal. The more skin I remove, the louder he screams. And the louder he screams, the more skin I remove.
He tried to take what’s mine.
He tried to break what’s mine.
The loop pounds through my head like a fucking drum, driving Calista’s knife deeper into his body. Ligaments and muscle tissue cover the surrounding surface of the parking lot, but I am nowhere near finished.
“She begged you to stop.” I’m snarling, stabbing the piece of meat in front of me, “She does not beg to anyone except me .”
Skirting the knife under his kneecap, I start slashing the tendons holding everything together. The screams finally come to a stop when the man falls unconscious, the loss of blood finally surpassing his bodily functions.
His body is nothing more than a dismembered carcass when I finally come up for air. My concept of time has long since evaporated from my mind, as has my need for rational thought.
It should be concerning, the blood dripping from my hair onto my face, and yet I find myself relishing in the sensation.
Absorbing the man’s blood until it bleeds into the red haze pulled over my eyes.
The knife is slick with bodily fluids, so I wipe it clean on my dress pants. They have not fared much better than my shirt, equally soaked and partially torn from the fight the man tried and failed to put up against me .
For the first time in my life, I did not approach a situation with my mind. It was downright animalistic, the way I grabbed him by the throat and threw him to the ground. Not a single thought drifted through my mind before I started cutting off layers of his skin, removing every piece that had the audacity to touch my little saint.
I felt completely, irrationally alive . And yet, I was unable to enjoy the flood of sensations given the excruciating pain that detonated inside my chest.
My self-preservation kicks back in when I finally stagger to my feet. Tucking the knife back inside my pocket, I find my hands shaking uncontrollably as the rush of adrenalin drains from my body.
It takes three tries to get my fingers to grip the car handle properly. I keep waiting for the numbness to sink back in, for logic to take over my body once more, but it refuses to cooperate.
Letting out a growl, I wrap both hands around the door handle and rip it open. A small figure lays curled up in the backseat, matted red hair covering the soft edges of her face.
Dark stains bloom across the leather seats, covering the area where her legs rest. I am covered in another man’s blood, yet it is the sight of her ripped skirt and bloodied legs that stops me in my tracks.
He made her fucking bleed .
Melody shifts, peering up at me through a curtain of hair. Her bloodshot eyes make a terrible accessory to her ensemble, and I find myself wanting to kill the man all over again.
Except start by removing all his vital organs.
I reach inside my pocket and grab Calista’s blade. It looks the same as it always does, sharp and unyielding to the damage it has caused.
Untucking my shirt from my pants, I study the stained material. Majority of the shirt is red and soggy, but the material pressed against my back feels mostly dry.
My favourite dress shirt is the third casualty of the night. The expensive silk stands no chance against the ruthless blade, and pretty soon it is nothing but a mass of fabric hanging limply from my hands.
“Come here.”
My little saint doesn’t move, so I climb further into the car and start cleaning her up. Gently wiping the dirt from her face, I can feel the pain again, lingering and expanding in my chest.
When I reach for her legs, she jerks away.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Little saint-
“Just go away.” Her voice quivers, those blue eyes refusing to meet mine, “I-I don’t want you to see me right now.”
My lips pinch into a smile, “I’m afraid you don’t get that choice.”
“Please.” She turns her head, “Get out of this car and leave, Marlin. Please . ”
Letting out a sigh, I slowly unfold myself from the car. Melody doesn’t look at me, she just keeps her head turned away.
The blood coating my skin has me itchy and uncomfortable as I walk around the driver’s side. The keys I stole from her purse dangle between my fingers as I crank the seat back, trying to make space for my legs.
“I told you to leave.”
Jamming the key into the ignition, I grimace at the unfortunate turn of the engine. The old vehicle rumbles to life and I crank an equally old stick into drive.
“I did. I just chose not to go too far.”
Melody doesn’t speak for the rest of the drive. I find myself sneaking glances at her through the rearview mirror, but she never meets my eyes.
When we get to the Seaborn Mansion, I carry her inside. Up the spiralling staircase and into the safety of my bedroom. My little saint disappears into the bathroom and I find that excruciating pain has returned.
Stronger and so much worse than before.
I rub my chest with a wince, trying not to think about the closed bathroom door.
Trying not to think about the empty look in her eyes.
It bubbles up inside of me, the same feeling I got when I reached the parking lot and saw my little saint being raped.
I told myself it was anger.
My first taste of unleashed fury .
Sobs ring out from behind the bathroom door and I collapse onto the bed. The pressure is building, threading through my veins like some sort of disease.
The one emotion I promised myself I would never feel again.