Page 28 of Ruin Me Gently

“Shut the fuck up, Clark.”

Oh, idiot. Silas. Idiot. Idiot.

“W-what? Who—who are you?!” His voice shook, cracking on the last word.

I ignored him. Just held him there for a sec, letting him sweat.

Maybe Iwouldtake his wallet, just for making me improvise.

“Doesn’t matter,” I said.

His lips quivered, his hands shaking where they clutched at my wrist like he could pry me off. He couldn’t.

“What matters…” I trailed off, leaning in so close I could feel the tremble of his breath against my face.

What matters is that you don’t go near Lilith ever again. Not her house. Not her work. Nowhere.

But I couldn’t say that. No matter how hot and heavy the words were on my tongue. Couldn’t let him know that this wasn’t about the money I definitely didn’t need, or the fact that I just really, really wanted to break his face.

“Money. Now.”

His throat bobbed. “I—I don’t have anything!”

I didn’t want to play this game. I just wanted him to hurt.

So I made it hurt.

My fist connected with his face, and his head snapped violently to the side, the crunch of bone splitting through the air, raw and wet and satisfying.

His strangled yelp turned into a choked gag. Hot, thick blood spilled from his lip, trailing down his chin.

Maybe he’d see this as some karmic retribution. Or maybe I’d have to hit him again. Either was fine by me.

“You think you can do whatever you want?” My grip tightened with every word. “That there won’t be consequences?”

He coughed and wet his split lip with his tongue, spitting red onto the dirt like he had something to prove. “I didn’t doshit.”

Wrong answer.

Knuckles met cartilage with a sickening crack.

He made a horrible, garbled noise, hands flying up too late. Bloodgushedthis time, rushing down and soaking into his jacket.

“Try again,” I said. “Whatdidn’t you do?”

He wasn’t flailing anymore. Wasn’t fighting. Just losing.

“Just—just let me go.”

So I did.

He collapsed in a limp heap at my feet, gasping as the air knocked out of him, arms scrambling against the dirt like he wasn’t sure whether to run or to curl into himself.

He didn’t get the luxury of choice.

I pulled back and drove my boot into his ribs as hard as I could. The impact was solid, and he rolled, coughing violently, one arm clutching his ribs as the other hand fisted the dirt beneath him.

I lowered myself into a crouch by his side and reached into his pocket, yanking out his wallet and flipping it open.

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