BEASTLY INFERNO

BEASTLY INFERNO: 7

"I'm going to show you how to butcher a body and give you a human anatomy lesson as a bonus".
~ Tristan

"I'm going to show you how to butcher a body and give you a human anatomy lesson as a bonus," Tristan said, his voice cold and detached.

The man fell to his knees, a trembling mess. "Please, sir... I have a wife and children. I did it for the money—please, don't kill me. I beg you."

I felt tears running down my cheeks, dripping off my chin, but I didn't care. Why is this happening? One minute I was with Elle, and the next, I'm in the middle of a massacre.

Tristan's eyes flashed with anger as he yanked the man to his feet. "Touching story... why not add that your grandmother is in a wheelchair or your grandfather has lung cancer!"

I gasped, staring at Tristan in disbelief. How could he be so heartless?

"Tristan..." Heather's voice cut through the tension like a blade. She stood with a smirk, Dimitri by her side. "Bring him to me."

Tristan dragged the man by his collar, throwing him at Heather's feet.

"I forgive you," she said sweetly, her smile never reaching her eyes. "So, I'm going to make this quick and painless."

Her nails extended, gleaming like talons under the moonlight. With Dimitri's help, she plunged her claws into the man's neck. His face twisted in agony as she tore upward, severing his head cleanly from his body. Blood spattered like rain as his lifeless body slumped to the ground.

Heather dropped the head to the floor with a grimace, swiping her hand in disgust. "Baby, I got my hands dirty," she said, pouting at Dimitri.

He laughed, scooping her into his arms. "You'll survive." With that, they disappeared into one of the houses.

Five men. I had just watched the brutal slaughter of five men by the people who called me theirs. The crowd began to disperse, some dragging the bodies away. Within minutes, it was like nothing had happened.

Tristan approached me, his expression unreadable. Before I could protest, he picked me up effortlessly. Too weak to resist, I let him carry me to his house.

The moment my feet touched the floor, I bolted to the bathroom and retched into the toilet. My stomach twisted painfully, my head pounding with the force of a jackhammer. When I finally stopped, I looked in the mirror and barely recognized the hollow-eyed figure staring back. My hands were still stained with blood—his blood.

I scrubbed furiously at the sink, fresh tears streaming down my face. When the blood was gone, I splashed water on my face and took a shaky breath.

Tristan was waiting when I stepped out. "Come. You must be hungry," he said.

I glared at him. "I'm not hungry," I snapped, turning toward the bedroom.

He followed closely, his voice hardening. "I heard you retching. You need food."

I spun around to face him. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I shouted. "You just killed five people in front of me! I-I don't want this! I want to go home!"

A cruel laugh escaped his lips, making my blood boil. Without thinking, I slapped him. Hard.

He didn't even flinch. His hand tightened around my arm, and I winced in pain.

"I told you, Neroli..." He trailed off, releasing me abruptly. Without another word, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

I collapsed onto the bed, sobbing into the pillow. I wanted to go home.