What I'd do now, was look down at the broken mess of a man who thought he was more important than anyone else. One of the so-called elite. Now he was nothing. Less than nothing. A corpse waiting to happen.
Woody crouched down in front of him. "There is one thing I want. Maybe if you give it to us, we'll go easy on you."
"Anything?" the senator sobbed. He was holding his stump while pressing his knees together, desperately trying to contain the blood.
"I want the name of the person who organized the auction," Woody said.
"I don't know it." The senator shook his head, frantic. "If I knew, I'd tell you, I promise."
"Hmm, well, that's disappointing." Woody cocked his head. "I forgot, there's something else I want. You saw my woman naked. That's not okay. She's traumatized because of what you did."
"I am traumatized," I agreed, nodding again.
Woody turned to look at me. "I did some shitty things to you. I want to make it up to you. Let me start by giving you a gift."
He turned back around and shoved the gun back in his pocket. He raised the knife and jammed it into the senator's eyeball, not far enough to impale his brain, but far enough to destroy his eye.
The senator screamed and went on screaming as Woody stabbed his other eyeball.
"There, he can never look at you again." He pulled the knife back and admired his work.
"I'm touched," I said sincerely, which was strange because I'd never thought someone mutilating another human being would be romantic. If this was Woody's idea of groveling, it was original and sweet, if a little messy and bloody.
"Do you want to finish him off?" Woody offered. He gestured toward the other man, palm raised.
I considered for a moment, but then said, "If it's okay with you, I'd rather you did it, butonlyif you're doing it to make up for the past."
"So I shouldn't do it for fun?" Woody asked.
"Absolutely not," I replied. "Only if you're trying to make me feel better."
"I will do my best to not enjoy killing him," Woody said. He leaned in. "You fucked with the wrong woman, asshole. You thought it was okay to buy her and try to use her."
"You used her," the senator wailed. If that was his attempt at trying to drive a wedge between us, it wasn't going to work. We were united in our disgust of him and our desire to end him.
"No, I fucked her," Woody said. "That was going to happen sooner or later. Then I killed for her." He drove the knife into the senator's throat, ending his life with a squirt of blood and a gargle.
"I didn't enjoy that," Woody said, wiping the blade of the knife clean on the bedsheets.
"I thought you were suffering the whole time," I said. I was almost certain he enjoyed every moment of it, but it went a long way towards his grovel. There was still room for more, but it was a good start.
"We should get out of here." Woody pushed himself to his feet.
"Sable! Woody!" Leif’s voice called down from downstairs.
The sound of his voice was so sudden I jumped.
"We're up here," I called back once I'd composed myself enough to respond.
"They missed out on all the fun."
"Good," Woody said. "They didn't fuck up as bad as I did. They didn't need this kill." He frowned at me. "How many is it going to take before you forgive me?"
I smiled sweetly. "I'm not sure. I'll let you know." I patted his chest as I walked out, heading back toward the stairs.
CHAPTER 17
SABLE