Page 69 of Wicked Salvation

Just pain.

Pure, unadulterated, blood-curdling pain. The kind that makes you wish for death, but it never comes. I’d never be so presumptuous as to put him out of his misery. Instead, I take my time with him.

A fist to the face.

A knee to the ribs.

A dumbbell to the shoulder for good measure.

By the time he has the cognizance to beg, his mouth is a bloody smear. But his tongue won’t cooperate so it all comes out as a blubbering mess.

Good.

I drag him to the mirrors by the collar of his sweaty gym shirt, forcing him to look at himself, how stupid he looks.

“Not so fun when you’re on the other side, huh?” I whisper.

Tears fall from the fool’s face.

I can’t help but smile.

When I’m done torturing him, I drag him to the showers and turn it on, watching as red-tinged water circles the drain. I wish it was Silas, but keeping friends with an abusive rapist is grounds enough to warrant what I’ve done to him.

MAXIMILLIAN - 19:05

Believe it or not, when the coward sees me—he runs.

It’s as if he has a sixth sense. I’m certain Cedric is still unconscious in the gym bathroom, which means he couldn’t have had the chance to tell him.

The fear, the cowardice, this all just part of his personality it seems.

His pompous act never fooled me. A man that is obsessed with chasing skirts is always lacking in something, that’s why he feels the need to make up for it with female attention—and it seems Maximillian lacks backbone more than anything else.

I don’t speed up my pace.

This campus bears my last name.

I know it like the back of my hand.

There’s nowhere to hide—not along the back paths that the servants used in the 1800s, not the hidden exits that lead into various parts of the Scottish Highlands and even the broken grate behind the kitchen that leads to the old underground tunnels.

So Max? He doesn’t make it far.

I catch him by the greenhouse, his breath fogging in the cold air.

“What do you want, Beaumont?” Now that he’s cornered, all his bravado is gone. But he’s trying to put on a brave face now. “Stalking me around campus? That’s a new low, even for you.”

A hollow laugh escapes me.

“Is it?” I mock. “Whatever the case, just know that what I’m about to do, it’s premeditated. I’ve wanted to do this since the moment you came here bragging about fucking Vivienne’s cousin.”

I’m on him in an instant, slamming him through the glass—hard enough for him to see stars. Again, I’ve always been underestimated. Beneath all the baggy sweaters is a physique that honed from hours of exercise each day.

Whenever the weed doesn’t help me sleep, I work out until I’m tired.

Max is scraped and bruised from the shattered glass, holding his head as a rivulet of blood gushes down the side of his face. He tries to scuffle away from me, but he’s on his back and powerless like a crab.

I stomp on his ankle.