Page 29 of Unhinged

The words hit me like a jolt of electricity.

My hands are already shaking as I take a step forward, the knife cold against my skin.

It’s not fear that makes me tremble—it’s the loss of control.

I’ve done this before, too many times to count, but this is different.

Brydgett’s in charge now, and I’m not used to sharing my torture space, to sharing the pain I usually dish out.

I approach Eric slowly, his body trembling in fear, his wide eyes already soaked with terror. I grab his face in a firm grip, forcing him to look at me. His breath hitches, but he doesn’t scream—not yet.

“Hold him,” I growl.

A cold realization crawls up my spine as I look at Brydgett, watching her take charge with unsettling ease.

She’s different, more than just a tool to be used.

This isn’t just some casual threat—it’s real.

She’s the Alpha Slayer, and the way she moves, the calm in her eyes, sends a shiver through the room.

For the first time, it hits me—she’s not just someone to be feared in whispers; she is the one everyone’s terrified of.

Gears steps forward without a word, his massive hands clamping down on the sides of Eric's head. The pressure alone is enough to keep him locked in place, his trembling growing more violent under Gears’ unrelenting grip.

I place the blade just above his eyelid, pinching the delicate skin between my fingers and pulling it taut.

The cold steel bites lightly at first, and Eric gasps, the fight draining from him as his body goes stiff.

He’s begging without words now; the silence between us louder than any scream could be.

Without warning, I slice. The blade glides through the tender tissue as if it were nothing more than paper. Eric’s body jerks, a sound halfway between a scream and a choke escaping from his throat, but it’s cut off as quickly as it came.

I cut the other eyelid next, the motion swift, the blade gliding through the delicate skin. His eyes bulge, filled with a mixture of pain and terror, but the blood and swelling blur everything, distorting his expression.

Brydgett stays seated in the chair, her gaze fixed on Eric.

Her injury keeps her still, but it doesn’t dull the venom in her voice or the satisfaction in her smile.

She tilts her head slightly, eyes flicking to the bleeding wounds on Eric’s face, the sight of them clearly bringing her a twisted sense of pleasure.

And then it hits the room—faint but unmistakable. Arousal. She’s getting off on this.

My fists clench at my sides. My pulse spikes. Everything in me tightens, instinct roaring to the surface before I can shut it down. Gears growls low, and even Arrow shifts, his pupils dark and blown wide, trying to keep his cool.

Brydgett doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she does. And just doesn’t care.

“Good. He won’t be needing those anymore,” she says. A sick smile spreads across her lips as she leans forward, her eyes never leaving his battered face. "How do you feel now, Eric? Seeing how quickly things can unravel?"

Eric’s body trembles, but no words come. He’s broken, completely. His face is a mess of blood and tears, his eyes ruined beyond repair.

Eric stammers, barely able to breathe between his ragged gasps, his swollen lips quivering as the chains rattle with every movement he makes.

“Earl... Earl's not just some nobody. He's... he's set on having you. He thinks you’re his omega now, especially with the kid.” His words stumble over each other, desperation coating every syllable. “Tina couldn’t give him kids, so he wants yours—wants the boy. And you’re the key to all of it. He’s obsessed. ”

I can’t hide the fury that pulses through me, but I stay quiet, my eyes flicking to Brydgett. We just found out about Earl, and I know what kind of man he is, but hearing it from Eric, it feels like a kick to the gut.

Brydgett leans in closer. “How’d he get the money for all this, Eric? Spent the last of his middle-class paycheck on that shitty suit, did he?” Her eyes never leave Eric as she waits for the answer, the air between us thick with tension.

Eric’s eyes dart around, panic setting in as he’s cornered.

Brydgett’s patience runs thin, her lips curling into a sneer. “Deglove him,” she snaps.

"No!" Eric shouts, his voice a mix of desperation and fear. “He’s... he’s involved with some bad people,” he sputters, the words tumbling out in a frantic rush.

“Selling pills, drugs, other shit—I’m not sure what.

But I know he gets paid to create new strains of drugs.

That’s what he does. He’s making a fortune off of it. ”

Brydgett’s gaze hardens, her lips curling into a twisted smirk. “Creating drugs, huh?” Her tone’s sweet, like she’s talking about a piece of candy, but I know that edge of darkness running through her. “I’ve heard enough.”

“Finish it, Acid,” she says, her words dropping in pitch. She doesn’t stand, but the weight behind them is clear as she braces herself.

I’m not used to taking orders, never have been.

I’m not the submissive type. But with Brydgett, there’s something about the way she speaks, the way she commands the room, that pulls me in deeper.

I owe her—I owe her everything for the pain I caused.

For her, I’ll do anything. I’ll be what she needs, no questions asked.

“You hurt her, Eric. And I’m not letting you walk out of here alive after that.” My voice is low, calm, but there’s an edge to it now, something that even I can’t ignore.

He shakes his head, his eyes wide, pleading. “I didn’t—please, I didn’t mean—” But I don’t give him a chance to finish.

I drive the blade in fast, a quick jab to the shoulder. The sickening sound of flesh tearing is drowned out by the deafening pounding of my heartbeat. He screams—loud, guttural, but his screams mean nothing to me. Nothing.

But Brydgett? She doesn’t flinch, not for a second.

She watches, her gaze as cold as steel, hungry and calculating.

Her lips twitch with something dark, something almost…

satisfied . I’m seeing her for who she really is–the Alpha Slayer.

There’s no pretending, no hesitation. She’s not just giving orders—she’s waiting for me to finish, almost like she’s studying the precision of it, the way I carry out the violence.

She enjoys it, and that realization hits me hard.

In all the stories I’ve heard, I never truly understood the weight of them. But now, in this room, watching her—it's clear. She thrives on this.

With one final motion, I drive the blade deep into his chest, the steel sinking with sickening precision. Eric’s body goes limp, collapsing forward as the life drains from him. Blood spills from the wound, pooling beneath him.

“Well, that was fun,” Brydgett says, wiping her hands clean as if she’s just finished a simple task.

I stand there for a moment, my chest rising and falling with the heavy breath of adrenaline still coursing through my veins.

It’s done. I’ve done what she wanted. And, strangely, in this twisted moment, I’m okay with that.

Because it’s not just about her taking charge anymore. It’s about the fact that she owns this.