11
Eric
It’s not her who’s the sadist.
It’s me.
This is the second time I’ve played with fire by stepping over the fucking line and gotten burned.
Of course, I was going to spank her ass for snooping around my room, but everything else came out of the blue.
It came from the beast inside me that wanted to consume her, and if I’m honest, it came from the part of me that knew Robert had had her. The part that suspects she must have been his on some level, and I wanted to erase that.
It’s crazy as fuck. I already know I can’t keep her, but I don’t want her to have belonged to him either.
That’s not what attracts me to her, though. There’s more. It’s something I can’t quite put my finger on, and that’s saying something given the fact I should be able to figure out my own damn mind.
Now the taste of her sweet pussy is in my mouth like I just had an exquisite meal, and the sadistic part of me wants to taste her all over again—everywhere.
That’s what’s been going through my head for the last hour and probably the only thing keeping me sane as I initiated Luke Thornton’s torture. All that time, and the fool has told me nothing but shit.
So, I feel nothing but that bloodthirst as I stare into his wide, terrified eyes. I have him tied up in the chair before me. My men got him warmed up before I arrived. By the time I got here, he was already covered in blood and a gory mess.
I gave the order to go wild just for the extra time we spent looking for him.
Of course, when he found out I was looking for him, the motherfucker tried to skip town. The fool even sent an email to Robert, which Maksim intercepted.
When I first walked into the warehouse, Luke looked like he was ready to shit himself. Undiluted fear rippled off him in waves, and as I grabbed the blow torch and burned off his leg, he knew that was only the beginning, and his only choices were to die fast or slow.
It was clear he knew this was going to be his last day on earth.
He would have come to that conclusion when he remembered what he did to me.
Even if I were to let him go, his cartel friends would kill his ass for not depositing the three million dollars’ worth of cocaine in the back of his truck with their buyer.
Giving him a ruthless smile, I fire up the torch once more and wave it in front of his eyes. Tears run down his cheeks, and as he shuffles against the rope holding him hostage the fragrance of burnt flesh tickles my nose.
“Please, I don’t know anything more,” he cries.
“You’re lying,” I answer, holding his gaze. I have no idea if he is lying or telling the truth, but it doesn’t matter. That won’t change what I do to him.
For the last half an hour, he’s gone from screaming for God to save him to shouting nonsense as he cried and begged for mercy, then he pissed himself. Twice.
I’m not a good man—clearly—but even I know God must have turned a blind eye when he called for him.
This man has a taste for preying on the weak.
Everything about him is a front, and it wasn’t just my sister who fell prey to his disgusting shit. Luke Thornton has a library of footage he’s garnered from other children—young girls—some who were kidnapped and sold to cartels for their flesh trade. He’s one of those perverted sick fucktards who like to watch and obsess over children.
“Robert Carson,” I say the name of my nemesis again. This time with emphasis. “You set up his meetings here. You must have some contact with him.”
When I turn up the flames on the blow torch, Luke starts sobbing again. He hasn’t answered me this time. I don’t know if that’s because he can no longer form words. Or it could be because he’s going to give me the same answer, and he knows my reaction will only accelerate his death.
“Answer me, Luke,” I shout, and he jumps at the sound of my voice.
“I told you, all I do is email, and he messages back with a location.”
“And you don’t have a fucking number for him?” I shout in his face.