Page 159

Wrong answer.

I released the pliers and reached for the blowtorch instead, flicking it on with a soft hiss of blue flame. The man’s good eye widened in pure terror as I held the fire close to the raw, weeping nail bed, letting the heat kiss the skin before pressing it in. Flesh sizzled, the smell acrid as he convulsed hard against the ropes, a guttural howl ripping from his throat. Ryder watched, too, that dark gleam sharpening as the screams filled the basement.

“Try again,” I said. “Because I’m about to hack off your dick and feed you pieces of it in a second.”

He started screeching, shaking his head so wildly blood splattered from his ruined socket as his words tumbled out in panicked, broken bursts. “No one in Blackwood! Last week…the pulse…a runaway hitchhiker. We—we took her. But no one else! No notes, no watching—no one in town!”

His voice cracked on the last word, dissolving into wet, desperate sobs as he thrashed against the ropes, like the confession alone might save him.

It wouldn’t.

But I believed him. This man clearly didn’t know anything about Sienna. I also hadn’t met anyone in his group that seemed sophisticated enough for the fucked-up trick they’d left her at the museum.

I didn’t know if I felt better or worse. On the one hand, there wasn’t a cannibalistic cult after her…but on the other hand, that meant that someone else was still out there and a threat.

Blackwood certainly was never boring.

But just when Sienna had finally agreed to stay…I wasn’t sure staying here was safe for her anymore.

I pulled the branding iron from the bucket and stuck it in the fire for a second before I pulled it back out. It glowed an angry red. I pressed it hard into his other eye, holding it there while he screamed, flesh sizzling, the pop of fluid bursting loud in the basement.

Ryder did a fist pump at the sound, and I rolled my eyes.

The guy thrashed until the ropes cut skin and his screams had turned to wet gurgles. When I pulled it away, both sockets were blackened ruins, smoke curling up like incense.

Ryder whistled low. “Atta boy, Hayes.”

I dropped the iron, my chest heaving as I stared at the wreck in the chair. A strange lightness settled over me, unfamiliar and almost dizzying. I felt…better than I had in a while after a session like this. There was no lingering tension in my shoulders, no gnawing worry in my gut.

And then it hit me.

It was because I didn’t have that constant, low-level dread anymore, the one that whispered Sienna might find out what I really was and run. After her confession, after the way she’d kissed me like my acceptance of her darkness was the oxygen she needed to breathe…I knew she’d understand. She’d accept it. Hell, maybe she’d even love it.

My girl was a killer and a survivor. The perfect match for the monster in me.

I’d tell her everything, eventually.

First, I needed to find out who’d been harassing her since she arrived in Blackwood and drag him into this basement. Maybe when I did…she’d want to watch.

“Want to do the honors?” I asked as I stepped back.

Ryder pulled his knife with a hungry grin. “It would be my pleasure.”

He slit the guy’s throat clean and quick, almost kind when measured against the things I’d already done to him. I’d have to give him shit about that. Blood sprayed in a final arc, pooling dark on the concrete around him.

“So, is tonight the night you’re gonna drop the ‘hey baby, I torture people for fun’?” Ryder asked as he cleaned off his knife.

I scoffed. “Of course not. I have to propose to her first.”

Before Ryder could celebrate, his phone buzzed. “Sheriff line,” he mouthed before answering it. “This is Boone.”

His face went still. “When?”

Something in the answer tightened his expression. “You haven’t heard from her?”

He dragged a hand through his hair. “And the clinic?”

His voice flattened. “Okay. I’m on my way.”