I placed the edge of the blade in the center of my palm, pressing enough for me to feel the slight pain of the steel but not enough to make me bleed.
“Don’t say I’m not a merciful man. I’ll allow you to meet your maker today.”
I knew he heard that because his cries got louder before fading into a whimper.
I smiled.
“Do you know why I’m going to kill you?”
I went up to him, placing the cold blade against his bloody cheek.
He shook his head frantically.
His screams filled the room as I dug the knife into his rib cage and yanked up. Blood seeped through his torn shirt and dirtied my hand and arms.
I smiled, revealing the warmth of fresh blood.
“You don’t really know? Didn’t you ever wonder if any of the children you sold would come back for you? Have you been sleeping with one eye open for the past two decades since you started this business?” I asked with a sneer.
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
I moved the knife to the side and sliced it down.
More screams filled the room.
I closed my eyes, taking it in.
When I got to his soft belly, I turned the knife toward his navel.
He gurgled on his own blood as the slice I made opened him up, and his insides spilled out over my shoes.
I kept the knife in there and forced his face toward me. I wanted my face to be the last thing he saw before he went.
I watched as his eyes flashed in recognition before they turned to shock and, finally, took on the glassy, lifeless quality I was so familiar with.
Henry Ramos was dead.
I didn’t feel any sense of relief.
I hadn’t expected to.
I killed him because he had wronged me, but there was a numbness that settled in my bones over the act. As if I was doing nothing more than checking off another thing from my list of to-dos.
I took a step back and took in the mess I had created. Gabriel would clean up the mess.
I trusted that.
As for me …
I looked down at my body. I was covered in blood.
I smelled like death.
I was going to clean up before I went to see Catalina again.
And that was all there was to it.
* * *