Page 17 of Until Death Parts Us

My feet carry me quickly across the snowy path, and I don’t take the time to be careful or plot out any ideas. Someone has my Kaspian, and I need him back.

I yank open the front door, a large hunting knife in my back pocket, rope wrapped around my arm, and the axe in my hand.

I drop the bag on the floor and scan the room. It’s free of people, but it’s littered with belongings that prove they’ve been here for a while.

There’s a doorway to the right and to the left. I make a quick decision to visit the former first, but before I get there, I hear a noise. I slow my steps and get close to the wall, listening to the sound of a man grunting somewhere down the hall.

My feet take me forward, inch by careful inch until I get to a half open bedroom door. When I peek inside, I see a man vigorously fucking a cock sleeve as he stands in front of the end of the bed.

I slowly set the axe down against the wall and then unravel the thick rope around my arm. Once it’s gripped tightly in my hands, I enter the room.

His grunts and heavy breathing keep him from noticing the slight creak in the floor when I step inside. My eyes scan the room, but he’s the only one in here.

Quickly, I stand at his back and bring the rope down in front of him, pulling back when it’s across his chest, effectively pinning his arms to his sides as I tie it behind him.

The sex toy falls to the ground as he gasps, his body going into fight mode. The pants around his thighs keep him from moving well, so I shove him forward until he’s face down on the bed.

I get to the side of him and push his head into the mattress, wanting to suffocate him. Wanting to hear him gasp and panic. I want to watch his body twitch and flail until he ultimately goes still.

But I need answers.

Leaning down, I whisper into his ear. “Do not scream or I will cut the vocal cords from your throat.”

I allow him a tiny amount of reprieve, and he shifts his head to the side and sucks in lungfuls of air.

“Where is he?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer. He only keeps sucking in deep panicked breaths.

“Fine,” I say, yanking him to his back while I remove the knife from my pocket. With my hand squeezing his face, I bring the tip of the knife to his flaccid cock. “How about we start here?”

His eyes widen, and he finally speaks. “No, no, no, no,” he chants, trying to scoot away. “Please.”

“Where is he?” I ask again.

“Who?” he questions. I move the knife to his balls. “Okay,” he cries. “Tim left a few minutes ago. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

“Is anyone else here?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head, his eyes trained on my knife.

“Did Tim bring someone in here?”

“No. I don’t know,” he says, eyes brimming with tears. “I haven’t known him long. Whatever he’s into has nothing to do with me.”

“You have a phone?”

“Yeah.”

“Tim’s number in there?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

I lift the knife and then bring it down swiftly in his heart. His eyes widen, and his mouth falls agape, a small noise coming from his throat.

I twist the serrated blade before removing it, and then I look for his phone. I find it in the pocket of his pants and bring the screen to life. When it asks for a passcode, I simply hold it above the dead man’s face and wait for it to unlock.

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