Page 29 of Cut Me Down

I put my hand on top of the knife and pat it down like I was showing a friend a collector’s item. The knife shakes as I tap the handle, the movement causing the reflexes in his hand to activate and twitch his arm. Which must be very uncomfortable for him. Perhaps I should do something about that?

“This is the hand that jerked her up like she was trash on the ground, right?” I question him with hate laced words, already knowing the answer as it replays through my imagination. Cutting on the bone saw, I allow the screeching and shredding metal to sing through the room before quickly pressing it to his wrist. He thrashes and screams as his blood begins to pour onto the floor, and spews on himself, Dust bunny, and me. I would compare the scene to a fountain outside of a garden. That is until the saw touches his bones and the screeching turns into a muffled, gritty roar. Thankfully, and unlike the Dust bunny, I’m smart enough to remain silent and keep my mouth shut to keep the blood from spewing in it.

Once it’s completely detached, I pull my knife out. Allowing the hand to fall to the floor. It bounces off of James’ knee before it topples to the ground. Sounding like a squelching knock as the appendage hits the concrete. I look over to James and see that he’s passed out from the pain, with a darkened, wet spot now covering his crotch.

“Pussy.” I say out loud as drop the now bloodied machine and turn to the Dust bunny. My pride swelling as I see the horrified look on his face. Counting each drop of blood that runs down and over the dips and creases of his appearance. I press my knife into his throat, a maniacal grin growing on my mouth, and watch as the little bead of red comes to the surface and blends in with James’ blood. “It’s almost your turn.”

“I'll tell you whatever you want! What do you want to know!?” The tears forming in his eyes, and the shakiness I feel under my knife brings a warmth to my chest. He's trembling so badly that I can feel the chatter of his teeth. I know at this point, he’ll tell me everything, and I wouldn’t even have to ask twice. Would he dare try to lie to me? Who knows. If he was smart, no, but something in his eyes tells me he’s not quite desperate enough not to try it, and I immediately started thinking of other strategies to ensure the best information relay possible.

That is, until I hear my phone begin to ring, and then the heat plummets. I know this man’s anticipation might just get me what I need if I wait to torture him, but fuck I hate it when I'm interrupted. Nudging my head in his direction, and allowing Tyler to take over, I walk over to the table, wipe my hands, and answer Carter’s phone call.

“Yeah?” I say blankly, trying not to sound as annoyed as I am.

“We have a problem. The drone outside of Ashia’s apartment caught movement from a large male inside…” I don’t even let him finish before I hang up and sprint out of the doors. My steps are heavy and quick. Forceful beats against the floor as I soar down the hall, seemingly making it to the end in only a few strides. My arms throw those doors open, nearly knocking them off of the hinges as I make my way back to the VIP balcony.

My heart is pounding in my chest so harshly that it might jump up my throat. I need to stop her before she leaves. She can’t go back. She would be walking right into his trap. If he got the chance to touch her again, I’m not sure she’d survive it again. She’s worked for years now to just be able to hold herself up, what kind of state would she be in if he got to her again? How could I have gotten so wrapped up in what I was doing to not track his movements once his plane landed? I’m so God damn mad at myself, I might just have to teach myself a lesson once I know she’s safe.

As I reach the balcony, I grip the rail so tightly that my hands tremble and knuckles turn white under the pressure. My eyes darting out, scanning the room so quickly I can barely make out any shapes, but I know one thing for sure. I’d notice my little wolf in a heartbeat, and she’s not here anymore.

“FUCK!” I sprint to the end of the balcony where the back staircase is located and pull my phone back out. As I climb down them, taking two at a time, I dial her number, and it goes straight to voicemail. The immediate worry that sinks into my soul causes my spine to shiver. On the off chance she put her phone on ‘do not disturb’, I try to track her phone, and there is no location available. This means that either she was so disgusted with my behavior that she turned off her phone, or that it ran out of battery and died. I’m practically begging for the latter.

Shoving through the back emergency exit door, I continue my relenting pace all the way to my motorcycle. The moment I straddle the seat, I turn it on and skirt off into the street. Heading in her apartment’s direction.

Chapter twelve

Ashia

We stayed for about another thirty minutes, and then we were both ready to leave. My shaky legs couldn’t take anymore, and Serena had found her nightly fuck. Watching them make out in the car shouldn’t turn me on like it has, but I'm not going to lie, I'm kind of jealous of her. I’ve spent the past six years hiding from any type of affection, and now that seems to be all I want. Especially from Damien. My phone died, so I haven’t been able to see if he’s said anything. Knowing my luck, probably not. He got his thrill, so he’s most likely done with me.

But my god, the way he touched and spoke to me would’ve made Satan’s whore blush, and I find myself practically writhing and enraptured for more of him. I feel bad, and somewhat like a predator, as I watch Serena and her man-friend make out like they are. Wishing desperately that it was Damien and I instead. I can still feel his hands on my body, and my pussy doesn’t misinterpret how it’s now clenching around nothing instead of his fingers.

Thanking whatever God is out there that I’ve finally arrived back at my apartment, I go to get out of our Uber. Serena’s high-pitched yell draws my attention and causes me to look back.

“Hey! Did you have a good time?” She asks with heavy breaths, due to the man’s hands running all over her body and his lips on her neck. It makes the feelings from thirty minutes ago flood my cheeks and chest, and a part of me really wants to tell her that my stalker had his fingers deep inside me, making me come so I hard I about passed out earlier. However, the stranger in the car, and her lack of attention span at this moment, keeps me from doing that.

“Yeah, I had a great time. Thank you so much, we’ll definitely start doing this more.” Especially if my tall, devilishly handsome stalker shows up again. She goes to reply, but the man shoves his tongue in her mouth, and not in a very appealing way from the scrunch of her face.

“Come on, Garrett, hold on a sec.” She slightly pushes him off and looks back at me. “Yes, much more often. Love you! Call me in the morning!”

“Love you! I will!” I hop out and shut the door just as Garrett starts ravaging her body again. Heading inside to my apartment, heels in hand, I drunkenly start to walk up the stairs. The hallway is spinning slightly. Tilting and turning in ways I know are unnatural. Damn, how much did I actually drink? That’s the only explanation why I would be feeling this way towards a stranger. A hot stranger, a tall stranger, a romantic stranger. I keep naming off compliments with each step I climb. Totally not proving my point.

Once I turn the corner to my door, my eyes immediately drop down to the floor mat lying in front, and I have to slump against the wall. Bracing myself as I actually feel the disappointment sink into my body.

See? He’s done. Maybe I wasn’t what he was expecting, or he just wanted a quick thrill and call it quits. Whatever the case, I can’t help but feel the wave of dispiritedness crash into me. Every adoring touch and word he spoke is now crashing and burning. He did say he’d see me later right? No, he probably wasn’t serious. That’s just something people say when they don’t want to make goodbye awkward.

I just need to get to bed. Or take a cold shower. Probably both, because the needy feeling between my legs hasn’t gone away, and I'm not really in the mood to take care of it anymore. Taking a deep breath, and steeling my spine, I cast out the thoughts and feelings I’ve been having towards Damien. Mentally kicking my own ass for being fooled so easily, and I pull out the key to my door.

The key turns and the lock disengages with a pop before I push it open and walk inside. An unusual sense of despair washing over me almost instantly. It’s like it’s dark here even though I cut the lights on. There’s no fog, but there’s a dense cloud surrounding me the deeper I walk into the small foyer. An ominous tingle crawls on the back of my neck, as if a ghost traced it’s fingers across it. Something is telling me to turn around and run out the door, but that new strengthened spine isn’t allowing me to do so. It’s probably because now that my stalker has had his fun, the fact that he knows where I live is more unsettling. Maybe I should’ve stayed with Ser tonight. Any smart female with a stalker would’ve totally done that, but no. I had to get all soft and horny for the guy and get attached.

I turn the corner from my foyer, and in a flash of beige, a sudden sharp pain originates and spreads across the side of my face. The spider-webbing stings through my cheek bone and bridge of my nose. My breath immediately catches the alarm in my head, as if my entire body went on lockdown to a threat. Swift air glides across the sting, make my spine rattle, but abruptly halts the moment I see that my fall’s destination is the breakfast bar that separates my living room and kitchen. Before I can stop myself, I feel my nose crunch as I hit it, then I ricochet to the floor from my lack of balance. The floor underneath me creaks and cracks as my weight pummels into it, much like the realization that was buried somewhere deep in the abyss of my mine.

Someone fucking hit me…Damien was here waiting for me…

The wooden floors and bare white walls bleed together as I try to compose myself. My vision, that was already severely compromised, is now much more disoriented, not allowing me to focus on what’s in front of me. I turn on my back to glance at my attacker, terrified I’m going to see a set of devious blue eyes, but before I can even look up fully, I feel an enormous weight fall on top of me. My breathing is constricted by two very large, familiar hands. Tightening around my throat so harshly that I can feel him press his weight on to my airway. Trying my best to cling and pull on the callused appendages, I feel his fingers tighten around my windpipe. I gasp, desperate for air. My eyes widen as I look up, struggling to breathe.

It’s not Damien…

Cooper is kneeling on top of me, choking me, and suddenly every horrid memory, terrified tremor, and icy blow of fear ravages my body. It’s been six years since I’ve seen him, but evil doesn’t change that much. His greasy blonde hair flops over his face from the amount of force he’s using on me, and his dull hazel-green eyes look red from the hatred he feels. I should’ve known it was him from the force of the hit. From what I’m assuming was the back of his hand.

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