Page 44 of The King of Hearts

His screams turn hitch-pitched when my blade starts moving downward, splitting his skin open. I have to pull it out a bit when I encounter his sternum. The dagger is sharp, but not enough to go through bone. That’s what the bone saw on the table is for.

“You see, Shane,” I say, my voice level. I don’t attempt to talk over his screams. I couldn’t care less if he hears me or not. “You were going to take Savina and do God knows what to her. That woman possesses my heart, so if you had taken her, you would have stolen something vital to me. Something I simply can’t live without. So in return, I’ll take yours.” Blood spurts out and hits my mask and hoodie. “I’ll carve your heart right out of your fucking body and present it to Savina as my gift to her.”

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t hear anything I’ve just said. He’s too busy screeching and attempting to pull his body away. His brain is going haywire, skipping the fight mode and moving straight to flight. It’s all so pointless. He’s going nowhere in hischains, and I’m certainly not stopping until I’ve accomplished my task.

He tries to yell words of plea, but they all come out garbled and unintelligible. He’s in too much pain for intelligent thoughts to form and sensible words to leave his lips.

The dagger sinks deeper into his flesh once I get past his sternum. The deeper the dagger goes, the harder my cock grows. Damn near nothing is more of a turn on than watching a man bleed out, and it takes my lust to maddening heights knowing it’s happening on my Vicious’ behalf.

A geyser of blood rushes from his body, and even over the piercing sounds he’s making, I hear it splash onto the floor and my boots.

I stop my downward stroke when I reach his belly button. There’s no need to go any further. I pull it out of his flesh and put the thing back in my hoodie pocket. Shane’s shrieks have died down to nothing. If he’s not dead yet and is just passed out, he’ll be dead soon enough.

His head hangs forward, and both arms are at an awkward angle, with the full weight of his body hanging from them.

I turn and go to the metal table sitting in the corner. It’s got all kinds of interesting instruments sitting on top. Earlier today, Alexander used a serrated bread knife to saw off a slice of meat from Shane’s thigh and his lower stomach. A pair of vice grips was used to remove one of his pinky fingers.

Shane spilled all of his secretsbeforeAlexander worked him over. What was done to the bastard wasn’t to get answers. It was purely to torture him for the things he almost did. Shane wasn’t leaving this room alive, whether he talked or not. Alexander wouldn’t take that chance. His intent was to continue to torture him until he deemed he had had enough before finishing him off. While I liked the idea of Shane suffering unimaginably for days, his heart belongs to me. I could have waited until Alexander wasfinished with him and taken the organ afterward, but I wanted to be the one to watch the life drain from his eyes. I wanted his heart to still be warm when I removed it from his chest.

I pick up the electric bone saw and flip it around in my hand. It’s the same one I’ve used for the past year. When I turn the thing on, a familiar piercing sound fills the room. I leave it on as I go back to Shane. There hasn’t been so much as a twitch or sound from him. He’s probably already dead, which is a bummer. Sometimes my victims do me the honor of staying alive long enough to feel the first few moments of me sawing into them. Those people are my favorite.

Too bad Shane here is one of the weaker ones.

I rearrange my stiff cock to a more comfortable angle before I start at the right clavicle. As I figured, there’s no response from Shane when it saws into the hard bone.

Oh well.

Blood, bone fragments, and gore splatter across my mask and clothes as I slowly move the saw downward, cutting into the ribs. This instrument is truly amazing and makes things so much easier. The first time I removed a human heart, I used the non-electrical variety. Although the thing was designed to cut through bone, it was still a bitch to use. I like this electric one a lot more. It saves time and energy.

It only takes me a few minutes to get through the seven ribs that are attached to the sternum on the right side. I move to the left and perform the same procedure. I usually do this with the person lying down, so it’s a bit more difficult because Shane’s dangling body moves.

By the time I’m done, blood literally drips from my mask and bare hands. I go back to the table and toss the saw on top, then grab the rib shears. I bring them back to Shane’s lifeless body and start cutting through layers of meat and sinew.

When I’m nearly done and the sternum is only hanging on by a few thin layers of tissue, I drop the shears to the floor. I grab the breast plate and yank the fuck out of it. I do it three times before it breaks free. I toss it to the side, and it lands with a thunk.

Now comes the truly fun part.

There’s a layer of tissue that still covers Shane’s heart, but I easily cut through it with a scalpel. It doesn’t take me long to sever the arteries that are attached to the organ. It’s still warm when it falls into my hands, and satisfaction fills me.

This bastard honestly thought he could take something that belonged to me.

The whole fucking world will realize that no one touches what’s mine.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

HER

The cliffs.

I look down at the lit screen of my phone, reading the two words over and over again, as if more will magically appear if I concentrate hard enough.

The text came thirty minutes ago. It was from a private number, but I know who sent it.

The old iron gate in the twelve-foot-tall concrete wall surrounding the estate creaks when I push it open. I don’t bother closing it behind me. The damp grass under my feet soaks the toes of my flats and tickles my exposed ankles. There’s a slight salt-scented breeze, and off in the distance, I can hear the waves crashing along the rocky edges of the cliff. There’s about a hundred feet of even ground between the wall around the estate and the cliff.

The moon is nearly full, and with not a cloud in sight, it’s bright enough for me to see without a flashlight as I walk the worn path to the same spot I always go to when I come here.There’s a concrete bench about ten feet from the edge of the cliff. I sit out here sometimes, taking in the briny breeze, the birds chirping, feeling the sun heat my skin, and letting my mind wander. I’ve always loved the sea.

My eyes are alert, and my senses are tuned in to the surrounding area. A lone tree sits off to the side. The old oak is big and tall, the long branches reaching over the cliff’s edge. With the full moon high in the sky, the tree casts ominous shadows that sway slowly along the ground.

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