Page 97 of Dean's Delinquent

He pauses as he stares at me, his eyes widening as he starts to become unhinged. “I fucking told you, John. The Society. It’s now mine. Secede or I’ll kill her.”

“That’s it?” I chuckle as I dare to take a step forward. “Just give it to you? Do you not understand that The Society is an idea? It’s a construct. It exists because, deep down, we all have a certain level of respect for the process and for the members. I may own secrets. I may own blackmail, but I don’t own one person there.”

“No!” he shrieks, his voice ratcheting up a notch. “No, that’s not how this works. I find what makes people tick. I apply the pressure. I get what I want. This whore is yours. Is she not? I’ll kill her. Don’t think I won’t. Give me what I’m fucking asking for.”

He’s unhinged. It’s clear in the erratic way he’s speaking and acting. Off to the side, Grigori takes a step, causing Thatcher to slide out and swing the knife at him. The instant he’s far enough away from Ashleigh, Sergei drops down and levels a bullet to just below Thatcher’s knee.

In a split second, his body contorts. The hit knee swivels out, bringing him down to the ground. Agony screams out from his lungs, and for a moment, a small part of my blackened heart is satisfied. But only a very small part.

As if they are one unit working together, Grigori kicks the knife away from Thatcher’s body and drags him away from Ashleigh to drop him over at my feet. He scrambles up, his eyes wild as he searches for some weapon he can use against me.

“It’s pathetic, really,” I murmur as I drag him up by the collar of his shirt. You thought to take me on alone, using a girl to get your way. Where are your friends? Those loyal to you?" I glance over at Grigori and Sergei as they fuss over Ashleigh, doing their best to help take her down without causing extra pain. “Loyalty. It’s something you can’t buy. You can only earn it. The Society isn’t a commodity you can trade like the Stock Market. You’ll never understand that, and I almost pity you.”

As they lower her arms, allowing blood to come back to her fingers, she cries out, the pain evident in every tightening of her features. “But we’re not done here. Not by a long shot. Sergei. If you please, bring Ashleigh over to that chair over there. It looks to be the most comfortable.”

Once she’s where I want her, I drag Thatcher over, ignoring the burn in my shoulders as I heft his bulk. With his bum knee and lack of cooperation, it’s a bit of a struggle to get him over to her feet. He squirms about, shrieking and screaming nonsensical words.

Irritation floods my body as I finally drop him to the ground. “Sergei, if you please. The other leg. I’m tired of fighting with him.”

“Pleasure is mine.”

The shot rings out just moments before another wheezed howl of terror and pain. I don’t give a fuck. Nothing he says or does will entice me to show him any amount of mercy. As he lies there on the ground, a whimpering mess, I lift him up so he’s at knee height to Ashleigh.

“You’ve treated my submissive very ill. You will apologize to her. Now.”

“Go to hell,” he spits out.

“Wrong answer.”

I grab the hand that went down her pants and hold it up for Ashleigh to see. “How many fingers did he rape you with?”

“Rape,” he wheezes, trying to pull his hand from my iron gasp. “You can’t rape a whore.”

My beautiful submissive smiles at me, her lips curling into a wicked grin. It’s as if she can read my mind. “All of them.”

“Very well.”

Ashleigh cranes her neck, watching in rapt attention as I ease Thatcher forward and wrench his arm back. The shoulder dislocates with a sickening pop, and for a moment, no other sounds fill the space except for the ambient noise.

As if the shock finally wears off, Thatcher cries out to the heavens. The soul-clenching sound makes my skin crawl, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

When Ashleigh looks away, I let her. No sense in giving her any more trauma than necessary. “You don’t have to look, sweet girl. Just know his suffering is in your name.”

I toss him down onto the ground and watch him writhe like the worm he is. Next to me, Sergei and Grigori watch on, ready to help if needed. Their gazes hold what looks to be a newfound respect for me. Granted, I wasn’t planning on getting my hands dirty like this. Not until I saw him touching her.

With a quick jab of my heel, I stomp on the newly dislocated shoulder, sending another bout of pain through his body. While he’s distracted, I slam my heel against his wrist, effectively breaking the small bones and rendering his hand useless. One by one, I grind my foot on top of his fingers, crushing each of them until his hand is a pulverized bloody mess.

Ashleigh’s face is pale, but she watches me commit this violence for her. She sees the passion in my face as I mutilate the man who dared touch her. Tears prick her eyes, but there’s no hint of regret in her gaze. Blinking at me, she nods, satisfied with his punishment.

Hauling him up by his collar, I grab his hair and wrench his head by. “Apology. Now.”

His lips move for a bit, as if he’s trying to make a sound. Instead of saying anything, however, he spits at her. It shimmers on her knee like the trail of a slug. Just as disgusting as he is.

“That whore gets no apologies from me,” he wheezes. “I’ll kill you. Asshole. I’ll kill her first and make you watch.”

I lift up my hand to Sergei as I shake my head. “His knife, please.” With a heavy sigh, I wrench his head back again. “You’re allowed to be a dumb fuck, but I wouldn’t be so loud about it if I were you.” As my words leave my lips, I run the blade over his throat, bathing Ashleigh in his blood.

To her credit, she barely flinches. Then again, I’m sure she’s already in so much shock that her brain can’t really take much else. I drop the body to the ground and scoop her up into my arms, taking care to keep my touch gentle. “Talk to me, sweet girl. How are you doing?”

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