Primal Pursuit

Tools to use. To scare. To get him the fuck talking.

I take my time, then strip my jacket. I’m in a black suit, black tie, black shirt. It’s overkill, but the point was to give rabbit a real hunt. I’d been away from her for a week, stalking down a different prey, this one Dark Sovereign adjacent, one Alexius had great interest in.

The job was twofold. Get some vital intel Alexius wanted. And take out the slippery, scaly, corrupt bastard politician who’d been tipped for big things, and make it look like a debauched, accidental death, thus ruining his name in the process.

I only got back from New York last night.

Everything accomplished and executed—pun intended—successfully and to plan.

I pick up the brass knuckles and slip them on, then,ignoring my rabbit, who’s utterly still, utterly focused on me, I gaze at my victim.

I have to ignore her, no matter how aware I am, if I want to force myself to go into that cold, empty place inside, the one that allows me to access all my darkness. And as I go, I can’t help thinking how perfect a fit she is. How she just might make that part better, more depraved.

“So,” I say to the man, pulling off his gag. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

The man hangs, exhausted, pulling down on the chains. He’s bleeding, bruised, missing a tooth or two.

“Are you done screaming?” I move from one side of him to the other. “You can scream some more. This basement’s soundproofed. I’m not letting you live. But you can choose how you die. Relatively painlessly or in undignified agony.”

“Fuck you.”

I sigh.

He’s not some random stalker. I already knew that. Lazy pro? Sure. Because if he and his now dead buddy were good at their job, I’d have never been able to take them so fast.

There’s no wallet on him. A smart move. But not smart enough since he’s here bleeding on my wall.

“Just had my fill of sex. For now. And you’re not to my tastes.” I come in close, grab his hair by one hand, and bring my metal-enhanced fist down on his face.

I feel the crack of his cheekbone, and it’s fucking sublime.

He screams again, and I close my eyes, soaking it up.

I don’t let go as I pull his head back. “We’ll try again. Who the fuck do you work for?”

When he doesn’t answer, I smile and let his head go, crossing to the array of tools, and pick up the slender, vicious knife. There’s already blood on it.

Rabbit breathes in sharply behind me. She hasn’t taken her eyes off me the entire time, watching every move, listening to every scream. Judging by the focused look on her face, my guess is she likes it. A lot.

I take the knife to him and slice a line down his face. He hisses, then I bring it lower, down to his cock and balls.

“Who do you work for? I can shoot you or I can slice your dick off, piece by piece, like I’m prepping a banana for granola and yogurt. And then, I’ll take your balls. You’ll be in agony, maybe pass out, but you’ll be alive, and I’m very good at keeping you awake and aware until the end. You’ll bleed out. Slowly, but—” I come up to his ear, “I can control that and make every cut after your cock is gone and balls mutilated count. And hurt. Who. Do. You. Work for?”

The man starts sobbing. “Please. Please stop.”

“Those are words for someone who cares. I don’t. You tried to hurt my rabbit. Talk, motherfucker.”

“I’m…I just follow orders…She has…” He’s fading, passing in and out. And that’s no fun. It’s also no help for information.

I slap him. Hard. “Talk, now.”

“She, ah…she has…something. Fowler.” He breathes in. “Frank.”

Ah, shit.

Fuck.

I lean closer and drop my voice, whispering one name, and he nods.