Page 142 of Pretty Little Threats

Joseph writhes on the floor, and I smooth my hair, circling him and contemplating the best way to start. The knees are as good a place as any. I raise my knee and stomp on his leg. My boot crushes his leg to the ground and he screams—or he tries to. I do it two more times for good measure. Wouldn’t want him to have a chance to recover.

Trying to control my rage is like the end of a fight—muscles aching, body shaking—even though I’ve barely started. My pants are hard and heavy in the air. But I have to take my time.

As he’s moaning and writhing on the floor over his knee, I slam my foot into his face. A satisfying crunch fills the air. His back arches violently and blood pours out of his nostrils.

Nose broken, Joseph gasps and seethes around the rope in his mouth.

Squatting, I watch him battle the pain. “We’re just getting started.” I pat his cheek, his blood wetting my fingers, and he jerks away. “Maybe we call it even, hmm?”

He tries to say something, but there’s no way to make it out.

“No, you’re right, we’re not even close to even.”

His fist flies at me, but it’s a flimsy attempt to hit me.

I laugh and catch it with one hand and break his pinky. His scream is music to my ears, and one by one, I break every finger, then stomp on his hand to break those bones. “That’s for hitting my wife.”

I grab his other hand and start the process over, snapping one bone after another until he pisses himself.

“That’s for hitting her again after I warned you not to.”

I pull out my knife and carve little lines across his skin.Some cuts are shallow, some are deep. I don’t stop when he vomits and chokes on it. I continue the slow torture until his entire body trembles and, eventually, he passes out.

Sitting on the ground, I put a call in to Lorenzo to give him an update. “One of you, get his car ready.”

“What are we doing with his body?” Lorenzo isn’t a close friend, but he’s one of Remy’s top guys, and that’s enough for me to trust him.

I glance at Joseph, who is still knocked out. The broken bones will leave a lot of questions, but there’s one way to cover it, especially with the way the wind has been blowing lately. “Break the driver’s side window. Run the car into the river, the current is strong enough for people to buy that he’s been swept out to sea. I’ll deal with the cameras and Joseph at the factory.”

Meaning, he’ll be put into a barrel of acid.

“Heard. How much longer do you need?” Lorenzo asks.

I could spend hours doing this, but Rose is waiting for me, and she’s already been alone long enough.

“Give me ten.” I hang up and slip my phone back into my pocket as Joseph groans on the floor. I’m done with this asshole. He’s taken so much from me, I won’t let him have more of my time. He’s broken beyond repair, and soon enough, there will be nothing left but his memory. If I had the power, I’d find a way to get rid of that, too, but taking his life will have to be enough.

Climbing on top of him, I sit on his chest and glare down at him.

It’s the end of the road, and it’s as bloody and violent as he deserves. There’s no kindness. No sympathy inside of me as he groans in agony.

All that’s left is fierce determination to finally eliminate the man who destroyedmy family.

I slam my fist into his cheek. The impact of my flesh against his reverberates through me. Sucking in a ragged breath, I hit him again.

My parents never got to see me grow up.

His bones hurt my knuckles and his blood splatters against my skin, but I don’t stop.

They never knew my sisters as adults. My sisters had to live in hiding for years, forfeiting a normal life.

Joseph’s agonized noises echo through my ears.

How is this fucker still alive?

I’ve spent years alone because of him. Never allowing the friends I have to get close, for fear of losing them. Years of being called a monster for murdering my parents. Ostracized by everyone I once admired because of this asshole.

The day he came to see me before the trial, I thought someone was finally there to save me, but I had nothing and no one.