Blood to Dust

“I want you out of my life and off this island, Prescott. And I’m willing to pay. One hundred grand. In cash. If you walk out of here and promise not to retaliate. See this as my farewell gift to you. . .and as my apology about Preston.”

He’s going to let us go. He really does love me in his own, screwed-up way.

My voice shakes. “I promise.”

“So now,” he says, while his hand snakes to my jaw, his finger tucked under my chin, angling me to face him. “All I need is a souvenir.”

“Anything.” I feel his other fist gripping me from the base of my hair and dragging me to his crotch. For a second, I think I know what he means and am tempted to bite off his dick. It was bad enough to go through this when my heart didn’t belong to anyone but myself. But with Nate lying here, I’d never be able to do it.

“Something of yours,” he continues, twisting my head to face him. I collapse backward and reposition so that I’m sitting with my body facing his. He likes that. His smile suggests victory.

“What?” I keep peeking behind him, trying to catch glances of Nate.

“An arm? An ear?” he wonders aloud. “A finger.” He grabs my palm and strokes it, his scowl melts into a grin. “You always had beautiful fingers. Thin, delicate. . .and mine.”

White dots fill my vision. He wants one of my fingers? How the hell would he. . .I know exactly how. I get it now. Camden wants to punish me. Not for what I did to his father and Sebastian. He wants to see me tortured for giving my heart to someone else.

“This is punishment for Nate, isn’t it?” I grit out.

He nods once. “Smart girl.”

“You asked for someone else’s hand,” I argue. “The wedding might be postponed, but you’re still going to take her as your wife.”

“Marriage of convenience,” he says simply and pats my cheek, like I’m a loveable puppy. “She’s a bloody Lady. And a rich one, at that. But my heart will always belong to you.”

Yeah, but your dick was everyone else’s. But I don’t care anymore. I just want to crawl to Nate and mourn him quietly. Screw my fingers.

“Take a finger, Camden. Just be quick.”

He gets up from his chair. “I was never one to stall when it comes to violence.”

The minute he strides out of the room, I slither toward Nate’s prone figure. There’s so much blood around him, his white shirt is soaked. I’m crying and grabbing on to his cold cheeks, begging him to say something, but he’s limp. There’s a faint pulse in his neck. I need to get him to the hospital as soon as possible. I don’t have my phone on me; Camden tossed it out of his car when he took me, and if I yell from the window for help, my ex-boyfriend might backtrack on his offer.

Camden steps back into the room with a wrench.

“Give me your hand, pretty lady.” He’s still standing up, me kneeling before him, his index finger curled for me to crawl closer. I do.

“Pick a finger.”

I offer him my left pinkie.

“Oh. Come on now. Give us something you’d actually miss. How about your right hand’s index?”

“Fine,” I bite. Just take the whole arm and let me attend to my boyfriend, I want to scream.

When the cool iron touches my bony finger, I wince and look away, but when I feel it twisting against my skin, I think about Nate. How it would feel to have it all with him. The life he offered me. We would have it by now had I pushed away my thirst for revenge. I don’t even want Camden’s life anymore. It’s so hollow and meaningless, now that I know what real pain feels like.

Not the wrench. Physical pain is nothing.

Nate.

After my bones disconnect with a chilling sound, Camden produces a knife from his back pocket and cuts the skin surrounding it. The burn is agonizing. The pain is everywhere. I want him to tear my whole limb apart so that I don’t feel the throb between my fingers. I shake my head back and forth, biting back my scream.

“All done,” Camden says cheerily, tucking the wrench in his back pocket and fisting my ripped body part. “Remember, sweetheart, if you come after me, I will pluck the rest of your organs one by one.”

I collapse on my stomach and moan.

“Please, let me make one phone call. I have to take him to the hospital,” I groan in pain.

“Don’t take advantage of my kindness,” he taunts, laughing to himself. “Drag him down to the street. It’s only two floors. Goodbye, love. I wish I were strong enough to kill us both. But the truth is, I love you too much to see you go so young. Enjoy what’s left of your life, Prescott. I fully intend to enjoy mine.”