The problem is not the killing part. That is easy. I’ve done it dozens of times, and now, it’s nothing more than muscle memory. What I can hardly keep under control tonight is this desire that stabs me in my ribs, begging me to end a life. The need to feel something, something that can pull me out of this numb state my mind has been continuously spiraling into lately.
As the doors open, the sound signals our arrival on the thirty-third floor, revealing a floor-to-ceiling window in the hallway that overlooks the city.
Once we get into the room, I walk toward the only other door.
“I’ll go to the bathroom to freshen up. Why don’t you relax and wait for me in bed?” The lie rolls off my tongue, but I need him to stay the fuck away while I grab my toys.
Once inside, I lay the arsenal the team left for me on the sink, picking up the handcuffs.
I step back to the room, finding him already naked, lying on the bed.Definitely should start killing more women.Not to mention, he even looks proud of his micro penis.
Although the sight is grotesque to say the least, the excitement in my eyes must be visible. I’m about to kill a fucker—pretty much the best part of my day.
“Look what I have for you, little on?—”
“Raise your hands,” I interrupt, playing with the handcuffs in my hand.
I don’t need to say it twice. One second later, his hands are in the air, waiting to be tied. I should have known he had the sub gene in him.
This process of tying him to the frame of the bed itself takes about five seconds, but it feels like an eternity. Each passing second gets me closer to satisfying my craving, but I still need to follow the fucking plan, which drives me crazy.
Once he’s secured, I finally breathe properly. No reason to play this stupid seduction game anymore.
I grab the blade and the gun from the bathroom—chances are I might just use them both—and a piece of tape. People have this bad habit of being very talkative right before dying.
As soon as he sees the new items, his expression changes, panic settling in.
“What…what is that?”
“Don’t tell me you’re—” I try to say, but he isn’t having it.
“You pathetic bitch. Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with? Let me leave!” The target shakes his hands, like he’dobviouslybe able to break down the metal bed frame.
God, I really hate being interrupted. I mean, I will not, and I am very much aware of who he is, but I’m not about to engage in his useless chitchat.
He opens his mouth again—maybe to question me, maybe to beg—but I cut him off before he wastes any more of my time. His mouth gets covered, and only muttered sounds escape through the tape.
This image of him—helpless, utterly lost—is why I’m doing this.
Can he see death looking him straight in the eyes? No, I don’t think he’s there yet. He sees an inconvenience. An irritation. Awoman in a dress with a weapon she isn’t supposed to know how to use.
What stings his ego the most is not the fear or the sudden realization he’s in danger, nor is it the anger that he didn’t prevent it from happening. The only thing he hears is the bruised little voice in the back of his skull, whispering that this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.
Men like him don’t die at the hands of girls like me. Not while he’s about to fuck a woman half his age, and for sure not while she’s the one killing him.
“Shhh, I don’t enjoy being interrupted,” I say, brushing my finger over the tape to make sure it’s secured. “As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted, you can’t really be surprised. You fucked up, darling.”
Tracing with my fingers along his neck, I imagine all the ways I could stab him while keeping him alive. Maybe hang him? Seeing his body swinging from left to right like a pendulum is my idea of fun. Or maybe I could skin him while calling his mother and—Victoria!Fuck, my demons are on a creative rampage tonight.
This list of ideas runs way longer, but torture is unfortunately not part of the contract. But my self-control is cracking, and the desire is too much.
I need it. I need it now. I need his blood. I need to kill him.
“Well.” I lean down so I can look him straight in the eyes, putting the blade to his jugular. “This was fun. See you in hell.”
I shove it into his neck, twisting it slowly, all while watching the blood stream in a beautiful cascade, a stark line of red drenching the sheets under him as his eyes become lifeless. Watching his body crumple, choking sounds filling the air as he’s trying to breathe through the blood that fills his throat, calms my own demons for a second. God, I love seeing people die.
I’ve indeed been paid to kill this pathetic fraudster, but I would have done it for free if I’d known how enjoyable seeing him dying would be. He makes such a fun victim to watch.