Savage Heart (Wreck & Ruin 2)

“Look what you did!” I huff impatiently, “You got blood on my favorite boots! Do you have any idea how expensive these were!?”

I glance at him where he slumps in the chair, restrained by the ropes I’d tied extra tight around his wrists and ankles, so tight his hands and feet were turning blue, and there were little trails of blood that looked like rivers running from where the rope had cut into his skin. I lift my foot and rest it on the table, grabbing the cloth to wipe at the blood splatters on the boot.

“These are suede,” I tut.

“Fuck you, you crazy bitch.”

“Now, now, that’s not very nice,” My brows pull down in mock offence, “Have I not been kind to you? Do I not deserve the same?”

He narrows his eyes.

“I mean I could have cut your balls off like I threatened, and yet, I didn’t.”

“You’ll get nothing from me!”

I pout, “You know, I remember you.”

His brows tug down low, his confusion evident in the deep lines caused by the furrow.

“You don’t remember me, I see,” I nod, “I mean why would you? You did favor the blonde that was roomed opposite me.”

His eyes widen, only a little bit, but it’s enough to tell me he knows what I am talking about.

“You’re the assassin’s bitch!” He spits, memories clicking together.

“No, no, I’m no-one’s bitch.”

“I’m going to kill you,” He threatens.

Slowly I walk towards him, and once in front of him, I lean in, holding both arm rests just to the side of where his arms sit. He jerks forward as if to headbutt me, but the restraints hold him tight, “How do you think you’re going to do that when you’re tied up here, and I’m the one with the weapon?”

He thrashes on the chair, spewing a bunch of curses even the devil might blush to.

I grab my blade from my boot and press it against his throat, slicing it in enough to make blood well and roll down his neck.

“I’ve had enough of this,” I tell him, “I just need the address of where he is staying.”

“I’ll give you nothing, bitch.”

I roll my eyes, “You should get better insults,” I pat his cheek, he tries to bite me. “Maybe I should go for the balls, I’m sure you’ll sing then.”

“Fuck. You.”

I grin and quickly remove the blade from his throat and press it to his cock, pushing in hard enough that the point slices through his trousers and pokes at his precious dick.

He squeaks. Literally squeaks.

I laugh, “How about now? Will you tell me?”

He swallows hard, “You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?”

“And if I tell you, you’ll stop? You’ll let me go?”

“Sure.”

I wouldn’t, but he didn’t need to know that.

I press the blade to his cock a little harder, a smirk of satisfaction gracing my lips as I watch the blood bloom on the front of his pants.

“Why are you looking for him? He’ll kill you.”

“We’ve all got to die sometime,” I shrug, letting up on the pressure at his groin a little.

“You have a death wish.”

“Perhaps.”

“He has a house to the South of the city, get some paper and write down this address,” I nod, withdrawing my blade and grab the paper and a pen, jotting it down as he rattles it off.

“If you’re lying to me,” I threaten, “I will come for everyone you love. Your family, your friends, I’ll kill them all.”

He scoffs.

“You think I don’t know who they are?” I cock my head, “You have a sister, younger by seven years, she’s a nurse. Your mother is in a care home, your daddy died when you were a kid. You have an ex-wife and a kid who has the prettiest eyes, but you abandoned her. Shall I go on?”

Now when his eyes widen, it’s clear and the fear, it shoots something addictive into my veins.

“The address is correct,” his voice shakes, “That’s where you’ll find him.”

“Thank you,” I nod, heading back towards him. I slide the tip of my blade across his bindings, and he visibly relaxes. I sigh, “on second thought.”

“What are you–” his words are cut off by a strangled scream as I move quickly and ram my knife through his crotch, slamming it in so hard it embeds into the chair beneath his ass. His scream is loud and the blood, Jesus, there was so much fucking blood. More of it hits my shoes.

Fuck. These really were my favorite boots.

“That was for what you did to that girl,” I tell him, “That was for every time you took her against her will, instead of helping her when you had the power to do so.”

He cries, tears stream from his eyes, and he thrashes in the chair, trying to put pressure against his cock to stem the bleeding.

“Do you know how long it takes for the body to bleed out?” I ask.

“Please!” He begs, crying.