Cruel Intoxication (Underground Kings 4)

“And you dared to move on to someone who looked like Teresa.”

What? Jolie looks nothing like Teresa. Derek has gone off the deep end. There’s no hope for his mental state. The death of his wife broke him in ways that ruined him for life. I’m thankful the same fate didn’t fall on me.

Sure, I was broken, empty, depressed, and had no idea how to live, but not once did I ever think about killing women who looked like Annabeth.

Derek pulls the glass out of his shoulder and tosses it on the ground. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this, Owen.”

“I’m going to guess about twenty years.” We circle one another like wild animals, preparing to launch, debating on the right time. It makes me sick that I’ve known the man this entire time. I hate that he got Jolie pregnant. The things he did to her… I’m disgusted. I can’t wait to gut him where he stands.

Just as I expected, he comes at me first. I dodge left, missing the knife swipe, then duck when he tries to stab my neck. I roll to the right and grab the piece of glass on the floor that is dripping with his blood.

I plunge the glass into the femoral artery but don’t drag it down to open the wound. I want him to slowly bleed out.

I want him to die a long, painful death, the way my Annabeth died.

The way all those women who have small wooden crosses on their graves did.

The way Jolie almost did and Heather.

“Oh, look at that,” I say, the blood flowing out like water spilt from a gallon jug. “Oops.”

He tries stabbing me again, cutting the knife downward toward my head, but I move out of the way, and he falls forward.

Looks like he’s bleeding out faster than I intended. A pool of blood gathers on the wood, and he grips his thigh, squeezing it to stop the bleeding, but only a doctor can do that.

I know how to do it. I had to stop plenty of wounds like that in the Army, but I’m not going to waste my fucking time and energy on this asshole.

“You know, I regret convincing Annabeth not to get rid of you sooner. She wanted to keep you around, and I told her you were no good. You only came around when you needed money or a damn ride. You used her. You never loved her.” I kick his chest, and he falls to his back. “That’s why it was so easy to kill her, wasn’t it? You have always been a psychopath. It all makes sense.” My boot kicks the knife in his hand away, then I press my foot against his throat. His face is getting pale and clammy as he tries to breathe. “Struggle,” I tell him, slicing his cheek open with the piece of glass. “Struggle!” I yell, and spittle flies from my mouth. “Actually, it doesn’t matter.” I pound my size fourteen shoe against his throat, crushing his windpipe. “I want to get home to my family. You might have taken Annabeth away, but I’m not broken like you. I’ve rebuilt. It took a while, but I did it, and you’re going to die knowing how happy I am and how happy I’m going to be for the rest of my life.” I kneel on the ground next to him and watch as his face turns red since he can’t inhale. The whites of his eyes turn next. I place the jagged edge against his throat and cut as deep as I can. Buckets of blood flow down his chest like a tainted river. I bet his blood is toxic. If it’s ingested in anyway, evil will probably turn the veins black and the heart to stone.

The blood bubbles in his throat, and his hands fall limply to his side, but he’s still alive. Not for long, but long enough for him to know what I’m about to do.

“I’m going to rip your head off your body now, Derek, just like I said I wanted to.”

“And I said I would hold down his body, but that doesn’t look necessary,” Howard says, leaning against the wall in the doorway.

“I told you, I deserved more credit. I knew he couldn’t fight. He preyed on women. He never faced me because he didn’t know how to pick on someone his own size.” I settled behind his head and grab his skull with my hands and twist. His neck almost pops, almost, but I want to keep him alive so he can feel the first tear of flesh.

“Oh, there it is,” I say, ripping skin from skin and tendons from their rightful place. “I hope you burn in Hell,” I whisper in his ear, bury my fingers in the wound in his throat, and break his neck. Even after he’s dead, I continue to rip and pull.

No way is this bastard coming back to life.

I’m heaving by the time I’m done, drenched in too much blood, but I manage to stand.

“That’s disgusting,” Howard notices, curling his lip as he stares at the head in my hand that I’m holding by the roots of Derek’s hair.

“Yeah, but what he did all these years was worse.”

“I agree to that. What do you want to do now?”

“I want to burn this place to the ground. I want you to find homes for these bodies in his backyard. I bet there are families out there who have never had peace.”

“I’ve already called a team. They are on their way here just for that. When the crime scene is wrapped up, I’ll help you douse this place in gasoline, and you can light the match.”

I drop the head onto the floor and nod. “That sounds good.”

Karma always finds a way to come back around, and this time, it was me.

I was Karma.