The Beast

Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen
Don't Say His Name

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LEV

   I love carving into people's skin. The sound they make, pleading for you to stop.

   People underestimate the patience one needs when wielding a knife. Most desire to put pressure the moment the tip meets the skin, as if the immediate reaction would be the most gratifying.

   It isn't.

   It's only when you've bled them out, just enough for them to remain conscious, that you feel most in control. Feel the most pleasure.

   Guns are a weak man's weapon. A quick and easy kill. Lazy. Boring. Lacking effort, in other words.

   The first thing Micah taught me was to value the art of patience and control. Death is a gift, pain is punishment. And you cannot punish someone's sins with a quick, spineless death. It's one of the things that's remained with me throughout all this time.

   I'm most satisfied when I'm collecting blood from others. Taking them. Feasting from their cries. It tastes better when the fool is someone who deceived me.

   And that's exactly who sat in front of me. The Italian. A family member of the Genovese line.

   After the heir of the Italian Dynasty attempted to kill my sister, the Genovese family line had been hunted down. However, Italian's love procreating, and these fuckers are great at hiding. Including the one in front of me.

   Until I found him. I always find them.

   "Please." Romeo spat out blood, eyes watering. "What my brother did to your family has nothing to do with me."

   "Is that right?" I wiped his blood off my SRK while making sure he saw the lack of fucks I gave. "Do tell me, Romeo. Is that what you truly believe?"

   "Yes," he rushed in desperation. "I swear, I would never—I will never do anything to you or your family."

   I cracked my neck and bent in front of him, pressing the knife against his throat. There were already several shallow cuts in the area. "It's funny that you say that," I drawled, pressing harder until I saw blood seep, "Because I've been told that you travelled to Mexico a month ago. And the Morale family mentioned that you never came to their home, Romeo. So, I'm wondering... what were you doing in Mexico?"

   Romeo may be good at hiding, but he's not good at covering his tracks. The Dynasty screens every single face that crosses the boarders. The moment he flew to Mexico, he exposed himself. It wasn't hard to follow his tracks after that.

   His silence was enough of an answer.

   I tugged the knife down his bare chest, leaving a trail of blood. He let out a sob when I sliced into his ribs. More blood pooled around us, bathing the concrete floors.

   "Why were you visiting the cartel, Romeo?" I asked briskly.

   "Please..."

   Knife firmly engraved in his skin, he choked on more blood. It sounded like music to my ears.

   "Why were you in fucking Mexico? Don't be fooled, Romeo. I can't keep you alive and drain you of almost all your blood. I'm only using this measly knife. Imagine how much worse I can become."

   "For protection," he rasped, his head drooping. I knew he would soon lose consciousness.

   "Protection for yourself."