Page 39 of Roque

CHAPTER TEN

HIS EYES ARE ONCE AGAIN SOULLESS, locked onto the beady ones begging him for mercy. The man raised his hands and pleaded his case. “It wasn’t me. I called an Uber and crashed at Chief’s place.”

He’s lying. His voice got higher by an octave with every word he spoke. Even now his raised hands shook slightly.

“You knew the rules. No one fucks with anyone on our campus.”

“Your campus? Your fraternity doesn’t rule. We’re all equal.”

“We belong to more than just a frat,” Johnny spits. “We run the whole game, bitch. East Coast and soon West. Our word is law, you feel me?” Johnny’s open hand smacked the guy in the face.

“Fuck you,” he spit. “You’d be nothing without your Daddy spoon feeding you money and power.”

Johnny grinned like the devil himself as he entered the tiny kitchen area of the apartment and came back holding a spoon. “Open up, bitch and take your medicine.”

Tati screamed and buried her head in Sebastian’s arms. But me. I watched wide-eyes and fascinated as Johnny shoved the metal spoon down the guys throat. He gurgled. Gaggled. Wretched and writhed.

Roque watched me watch them.

“What did he do?”

Roque came closer. “He drugged a girl at our party. Took her in the woods and had her half naked with his dick out.”

“Did he—”

“No, he ran. Like a coward when a couple stumbled upon him. But we picked him up on our surveillance. The girl was able to remember his clothing before she blacked out.”

I popped shoulder and sauntered forward. I’ve spent years training to kick ass. Roque might render me defenseless but this schmuck? Damn he can have every piece of vengeance meant for someone else.

I stopped next to Johnny, placing a hand on his arm. “May I have a turn?”

He cocked his head assessing me. “You think you can do better?”

“I know I can.”

Johnny removed the spoon from the guy’s throat who in turn, immediately vomited as he gasped for breath. Johnny’s shoes were covered but he doesn’t even flinch as he held him by the collar of his shirt.

My hands perused the various cutlery…. lingering coolly as I traced the sharp tip of a paring knife. I put it down. It’s too ordinary, too predictable.

“What’s his weakness?” I asked, circling the quivering, angry piece of shit sweating like the pig he is.

“Play any sports?” He shook his head.

I stepped in close, grabbed his hand and popped each joint one by one, instantly dislocating his fingers. “Good. Because you never will now.”

“Bitch!” He screamed cradling his injured hand. My upper cut took him by surprise; his head snapped back and rolled.

“Damn, Blue. He’s out cold.”

“What a pity, he’s such a lightweight. He deserved to feel more pain.”

Roque’s watchful eyes were on me as I went back to the paring knife. Using scissors to cut his shirt off, I crouched by the bastard’s side and bit my lip. Purposefully, I brought the blade down with pressure, watching the blood come out slow at first, then watched in fascination as as I carved words into his chest, branding him forever.

I love dick.

“Nice, Blue,” Johnny, inspected my work.

Roque stood at my side and slipped the bloodied knife from my hands. “God, you’re perfect.” he murmured meeting my eyes. “You enjoyed that? It turned you on? Made you feel alive holding his life in the balance? Getting to choose how far to take things?”

---