Page 12 of Saved By The King's Gamma

“No, I swear! I never took her virtue!” the butcher pleads, panic evident in his voice. “Mrs. Daley lied! Abbie is still pure, I swear it. If she claims otherwise, she is nothing but a liar. I know better than to defile her. After all, a girl like her loses her value if she’s been sold off,” he blurts out, his words hanging heavy in the air.

“What do you mean?” Liam asks, his expression mirroring my confusion. It is inconceivable to think the king would deceive me or lead me on a wild goose chase.

“I’m saying you didn’t purchase damaged goods. I overheard rumors about how the Lycan king took her under his wing; she remains untainted, I swear it. If she claims otherwise, she must be lying. Inform the king of her purity; I know it to be true! I know better than to steal her purity.” My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Did this man truly believe that the king would stoop so low as to acquire a sex slave? Did he not comprehend that the king possessed the power to have any woman he desired? Truth be told, the king only wants Azalea.

“You know better?” I inquire, my voice laced with incredulity, and he nods seriously, his gaze pleading with me.

What in the world is wrong with this man? I thought my own mind was twisted, but he has taken it to an entirely different level.

“I’m a little confused here. Are you Gannon?” Liam asks, glancing at me. “Because he claims to know better, yet he seems to find rape acceptable,” Liam interjects, his tone heavy with disgust. “Am I understanding correctly?” Liam asks, his brows pinching together, mirroring my confusion.

“What? No, I merely paid for the whore,” he retorts callously, and a surge of anger courses through my veins at his vile words. Without hesitation, my claws slice down his face, cutting through flesh until they reach bone. In one swift motion, I seize his throat, hoisting him up before forcefully slamming him onto the nearby table.

“Please, I beg of you! She’s still pure! I only fucked her ass. Her virginity remains intact. Buyers value that,” he pleads desperately. Every fiber of my being bristles with rage. Liam’s claws sink into his thigh at his words.

My grip tightens around his throat as I growl, “You seem to be gravely mistaken. We couldn’t care less about her virginity; what truly concerns us is whether or not you’ve caused her harm. But please continue talking; you’re only making your demise more excruciating. There are two things we despise with every fiber of our being: rapists and those who harm children. And you, my friend, have committed both of these heinous acts. Now, you shall face the consequences of your crimes with your blood,” Liam snarls menacingly, his claws digging into the man’s thigh as his screams reverberate through the air. With deliberate slowness, Liam withdraws his claws, twisting them as he does so, causing the man’s agonized shrieks to fill the room. Meanwhile, his hands clasp mine, reinforcing my grip around the man’s throat.

“Help me move him, flip him on his stomach,” I tell Liam, who walks off into the freezer. He returns, bringing back the ropes he had tied this scumbag with. We flip onto his stomach before binding his hands and feet to the legs of the table. He thrashes wildly and continues to scream.

Liam starts whistling as he cuts the vile man’s pants off while he cries and begs. Walking into the freezer, I look for a broom, finding one in the back corner by the grate and drain in the floor. Grabbing it, I walk back out to find Doyle crying hysterically and begging Liam to free him.

His words cut off, and his head lifts, his mouth wide open on a silent scream as he gasps when I shove the broom handle up his ass. His entire body shakes, his legs trembling uncontrollably. Blood trails over the steel table.

“I swear you’re still pure. Anal doesn’t count, right?” I ask him while I walk around the table. I grip his hair, yanking his head back. He pants, eyes wide, and I smile when Liam gives the broom a jiggle, and he makes a pained groan. I drop his head, and Liam walks over to the wall and pulls down a bone saw, chucking it to me. He then unrolls his pouch of knives, selecting one.

“So slice and dice, or will we be more creative today?” Liam asks.

“Please, please, just let me go,” the man begs.

“Don’t cry, beefcakes. Gannon here will make sure we tenderize your rump before we make you eat it. We can stuff it some more,” Liam tells him, slapping his ass. “If you like. I reckon you could take another, pretty loose back there,” Liam adds. The man whimpers and sobs before pissing himself, urine cascading down the sides of the table along with his blood.

“What’s that?” Liam asks when Doyle mumbles something incoherently.

“Think he said he wanted the other broom,” I tell Liam, who smiles sadistically while the man screams and thrashes as much as possible.

Liam comes out with a mop, and I shrug.

“It’s alright, I will spit on it first,” Liam tells him before shoving it in alongside the other one. His screams are music to my ears, ringing out loudly, and making me shiver.

“Now, do you like your meat medium, raw, cooked all the way through? How should we serve it to you?” Liam says, cutting a chunk of his ass cheek off with his knife. The butcher screams wildly, and I grab my saw before using a rag as a tourniquet. I know he will heal quickly, but the tourniquet will ensure he does before bleeding out. Wrapping it just above the knee, I pull it tight before grabbing my saw, and I start cutting into the back of his knee.

His howls fill me with savage delight. The smell of blood permeates the air, thick and cloying, mingling with the stench of his fear. His pleas become garbled and incoherent as he chokes on his own terror, but they fall on deaf ears.

“Slow down, brother,” Liam urges over the cacophony of desperate sobs and grunts of pain. “Savor the moment.”

I heed his words. I ease off the pressure, drawing out each stroke of the saw so that he feels every grinding inch cutting through sinew and bone. A sickly, wet sound fills my ears as the saw savages his flesh. His hideous screams reverberate through the room, melding with the dreadful squelching as the saw bites in deeper spraying the floor with blood.

Liam chuckles lowly beside me, calmly dissecting more flesh from the man’s hip. Casual as you like, as though he’s merely preparing a Sunday roast rather than ripping chunks from a living being. But this... creature... long forfeited his humanity.

As I lay down my saw and step back to survey our handiwork, a perverse sense of satisfaction blooms within me. But there’s a gnawing hunger still left unsated - an insatiable thirst for vengeance that not even this gruesome show can quench.

I turn my attention to Liam who is still immersed in his task. He looks at me, the corners of his lips curve into a bloody smile that does little to conceal his feral pleasure.

“Would you like to do the honors?” he asks casually, he tugs on the knife’s hilt, waggling it in the pit of gore which was once part of Doyle’s flesh. The blade is warm and slick as it slides free from the bone. Raising it before me to examine, I realize the man’s blood coating the blade reflects the perverse pleasure in my eyes.

“Mmm, no,” I reply to Liam with a slow, measured shake of my head. “I think I fancy something… different.”

The tray next to us holds our other implements of torment: clamps, pliers, maiming devices with teeth and creepy curves that glisten and wink at you menacingly from their steel-sterilized existence, Liam loves creating his own torture devices so that is one thing we will never short on. Yet, amongst them there is one tool that catches my eye.

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