All For You

Twenty-two

Isla

"What the fuck do you want, Isla?" Ollie squeaks, and it makes me feel giddy.

Maybe I am a bit more sadistic than I'd thought. Nick would have a field day if I ever told him he was right, though. Or maybe they'd send me to get help.

"He knows your real name?" August asks, his eyes questioning me. I may have left out the part about my history with our target, but what difference does it make?

If anything, I'm sure it'd give my family even more reason to execute this sick fuck.

But he's mine. I have to kill him. It's a pleasure I need, and the power I have. These assholes can't control me anymore.

"We've met before," I reply simply, walking right up to Ollie and grabbing his dick, or lack-there-of. "Once or twice, give or take."

Ollie snickers, his breath fanning my face as he leans closer, breathing me in. "Fun times, they were."

"Even the last one?" I ask, laughing as I give whatever I'm grabbing a squeeze and take a step back. Last time I saw him, he still had junk to threaten me with, but I got rid of that problem. "You should've told me you liked things rough. Our time together would've been a lot funner for me if you had."

"And what makes you think I wanted any of it to be fun for you?" Ollie glances back at August, who I'm sure is as confused as my brothers and dad must be from the safety of their car outside. "Shall I fill him in?"

I clench my teeth, glaring down at the fool. No, he fucking won't. They don't need to know anything. It won't do any good, so they won't be hearing an explanation.

Not from my mouth, or this dickless idiots.

Plus, if they haven't figured it out by now, they're better off left in the deep darks of naivety.

"Shall I take what's left of your dick?" I retort, smiling sweetly, and now it's Ollie who's glaring. "Let's get this over with."

"That's my line." Oliver stands up straight and steps into the nearest room, cocking a gun at his side and then turning around to point it at me. August points his right back, but Ollie won't shoot. He's not that stupid. He knows he's dying tonight, and there's not a damn thing he can do about it. "Are you gonna tell me why you're doing this? Come on, Isla, I'm a dead man, anyway. Just scratch my itch first."

"Strip and I'll tell you," I sneer, arms crossed, looking him up and down. With August to my back, a gun in his hand, ready to shoot the second I give him the go. I feel so fucking powerful, so in control. So exhilarated, and I know I shouldn't let it get to my head, but it's so damn addicting, and I haven't felt this way before. "Come on, Oliver. You're a dead man, anyway. What's there to be embarrassed about? I've already seen it all."

He glances at August, then back at me, and I see the opportunity he thinks I'm about to give him flash through his mind. He thinks he might get out of this alive if August leaves the picture, but if he was smart he'd know that I don't need August to get rid of his sorry ass.

I smirk, because he's so fucking stupid, and nod my head.

"Give me your gun, and he'll leave." I feel August tense behind me, and I can hear the protests running through his mind before he even says them, so I don't give him the chance to. "Or we can just kill you. Doesn't matter to me."

He sighs, groans, and unloads the gun, letting the bullets clack onto the ground, the gun soon joining them. I kick the bundle away from him, to the side, and give August a nod and a glance at the door.

"Isla," he warns, giving me a look. I shake my head, smiling as reassuringly as I can.

"I'll be fine. I promise. But I need to do this, and I need to do it alone. Please, Henry. You'll be right outside the door." I plead with my eyes, and he begs me not to make him do this with his, but after a minute or two, he gives in, walking over to the door hesitatingly. "I won't be five minutes."