Page 1 of Darkness Tempt Me
Chapter one
Mavik Blackwood
It started with revenge.I think to myself as the man I have tied to the chair passes out from the pain. Just one tiny fingernail and he’s out like a light.
“Poor little Carl,” I coo, delicately tracing my blade over his cheek like a sweet caress. “You didn’t even last five minutes before passing out. Such a disappointment.” I yank the blindfold from Carl’s face. His head lolls forward violently enough to startle him awake.
He blinks slowly, eyes adjusting to the low lighting.Sue me, I like to set the fucking mood.Carl squirms on the chair, testing the ropes around his wrists and ankles. He’s already forgotten my brief introduction to torture. Good thing I’m here to remind him. Sliding my brass knuckles on, I backhand the man across the cheek so hard, blood flies out of his mouth. He doesn’t even see it coming.
A tooth rolls across the floor. I must have knocked a few screws back into place because he immediately starts screaming,not even bothering to glance my way. Dear lord, the man has a set of pipes on him. Leaning against the wall, obscured in the shadows, I use my phone to pass the time while Carl throws his little temper tantrum.
Damn. Three unread texts. Peyton is going to be pissed.
When Carl’s gaze lands on me, I step out from the darkness, causing him to pause mid-struggle. His eyes narrow as he stares, probably trying to figure out why I look so damn familiar. “Wait. Finn? Is that you?”
I grit my teeth in anger. “Wrong, asshole.” I’m not my fucking father.
He blinks again, studying me. Then recognition dawns. “Fuck, Mavik? Is that you, boy?”
I scoff at the word‘boy.’I’m thirty-fucking-six years old.
“Damn. Scared the shit out of me.” Carl’s entire body sags in relief. “Some psychopath in a mask kidnapped me. Hurry up, help me out of these binds before he comes back.” He smells of piss and sweat. His eyes are still wide with fear. He glances behind me, hunting for his attacker, who used a syringe and hog-tied him like the disgusting pig he is. “The guy’s a fucking monster. Don’t just stand there, boy. Help me.”
A wide smile spreads across my face, and I tsk as if he’s been naughty. The sound of my voice causes him to freeze. “A psychopath? Nah. I don’t think so. It hasn’t really been proven. A sociopath? Maybe, but I don’t think that fits either,” I say with a small shrug. “But a monster? I like it.”
Carl’s eyes jerk up to mine, and there’s a layer of sweat and snot pooling on his upper lip. “Wha-what are you talking about, son?”
Rage swirls in the pit of my stomach like a tornado, poised to unleash devastation.Son.
That’s the last thing this man should be calling me. “I’m not your son.” I grit my teeth, peering down at Carl in disgust.Images of my abusive piece of shit father come to mind. He’s the reason I’m here today. No, I’m not a monster. That title is reserved for my father and his sick friends. Regaining my composure, I let out a deep breath, reminding myself I’m in control. “I might be driven by anger, but I’m one hell of a planner. This has been a long time in the making. Years. I’m not impulsive.”
“Now, son, listen here—”
I slam my blade into his thigh, making sure to avoid the femoral artery. Sure, I might be in a hurry, but there’s no need to rush. Carl needs to know why I’m doing this, and having him bleed out that quickly would defeat the purpose. Plus, slicing one of the largest arteries in the human body is messy as fuck. Carl howls in pain. “I said, I’m not your fucking son,” I snap, yanking the knife out of the torn muscle. Carl gurgles when he sees his blood seeping out of the open wound.
A profound sense of tranquility washes over me, and I feel instantly calmer once I see his blood. My body relaxes, and the tension leaves me. “Okay,” I chuckle softly. “That, I admit, was a bit impulsive.” I wipe the bloody knife across his chest, using his sweater to clean it off. “But you really should listen when someone tells you something, Carl.”
Carl is now sobbing in pain, thrashing against his binds. More snot and sweat drip everywhere, mingling with the scent of iron. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m not your father. He—he was a good man.”
“Oh, Carl. Carl, Carl, Carl,” I cluck. “Just when I thought you were ready to tell the truth. I know what kind of man my father was. Just like I know what kind of manyouare.” I trace the tip of my sharp knife over the bleeding wound in his thigh before slowly going higher. The moment my blade travels over the small bulge in his thin suit pants, poised over his tiny dick, I laugh. One small move and the man will be in even more pain. Imake a slow circle around his package, half tempted to end this sooner rather than taking my time.
My kills typically happen later, in a secluded area, under the moonlight. A place where the screams are muffled by the night, or in a staged kill room where I can take my time and bask in the moment. Not this early before work.
As though the mere thought of the office is enough to make my phone vibrate, I feel the telltale buzz alerting me of a new text message. Peyton must be getting impatient. My lips twitch. When did the need to see my assistant become more important than my thirst for revenge?
“It’s not true,” Carl pleads, shaking his head vigorously back and forth. “I never did those things.”
I laugh, casually checking my watch. I don’t have time for this shit. “That’s odd. I haven’t even started listing your crimes, and yet you’re so sure you haven’t committed any. Nice try, Carl. But you’re forgetting one important thing.”
Tears continue to stream down his face as blood drips onto the floor. “Wha—what’s that?”
“I. Was. There.”
“No, it wasn’t me. It was someone else,” he whispers.
“Finn Blackwood. Andrew Faletti. Jacob Larsson. Tony Russo.” I continue to name the wealthy assholes in my father’s inner circle. The men who hurt my mother and passed her around. The men who have all gone missing or shown up dead. My kill list. Or at least the names relevant to the prick in front of me.
Carl’s whole body begins trembling. I would almost be convinced he was having a seizure if I hadn’t seen this so many times before. I love this part. It’s the moment things click into their tiny little brains. It’s the moment they realize they aren’t making it out of this room alive. The moment when their fight-or-flight response really kicks in.
