𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐀𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | +𝟏𝟖

𝐗𝐕𝐈

—

"Do you want me to come?" Griffin asked, following by my side toward the large, metal door.

Micheal got placed into one of the rooms after someone had spotted him suspiciously with blood on his hand. I shook my head and Griffin nodded in understanding as the woman behind the desk pressed the button to her right, sliding the doors open to expose the long, dark hallway.

I clenched my jaw and walked in, the room Micheal was held in only a few doors down to make it easier for the men to carry his dead body out when he leaves.

With fisted hands and a clenched jaw, I unlatched the door and stepped in.

I glared at the wide, toothy grin on his face before walking over to the table on the far left. At the sight of the knife and rubbing alcohol, I put my anger under slight control. The fucker was going to feel far worse than what he made Valentina feel. I walked back over, hands empty as I threw my fist to his jaw.

The sight of Valentina covered in crimson made my blood boil, having me send another punch at the image in my head. He chuckled.

My fist came in contact with his nose before he spoke, "She sleeping? Huh? What's she wearing?" He chuckled some more as I grinned in anger and aversion toward the man.

He'd be dead before he got to touch her again.

I retrieved the knife, earning a side-eye that resembled a glare. He knew what was coming, he just didn't want to accept it. "You know, Micheal," I trailed off, lining the tip of the blade to his throat. "The only way you'll be leaving this room, is in a bag. I suggest you don't make this any harder for yourself."

"God, she looked so fucking sexy," he spoke, ignoring my recent statement. His intention was to make my blood boil, lose control, to prove he has a power over me. "Especially in those small clothes, her tits and thighs showed the whole time I had her tied up for me. All I wanted to do was fuck her mouth whilst she couldn't stop me."

I felt like killing him in this second, yet held myself back to further the time I had to torture him. "I know," I said. He looked up at me, an unreadable expression on his face as he waited for me to continue. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

I sliced a nearly shallow cut into his collarbone, and another on his chest, mocking the cuts he made on her. I stepped up to the table to retrieve the rubbing alcohol. Flipping the cap up, I tossed a bit of the liquid onto his newly, open wounds. He groaned and took a shallow breath, fighting against the pain with a grin.

Adding a cut to his shoulder, it was followed by another slide at his chest. I poured the liquid onto his skin, burning it as the crimson mixed with the substance and fell down his torso. After each cut to his arm, shoulder, and collarbone, I paused.

His breaths were rigged and short, too much levitation in his chest sending him pain. "She shouldn't be here," he grumbled. "She should be with her father."