Page 163 of Undisputed Chaos
“Breathe,”he rumbled, his voice dropping to that register that meant business. "Make him regret every second he spent inside what's yours."
The words hit their mark, and slowly, so fucking slowly, the killing rage crystallized into something colder, more methodical. More creative.
I stopped fighting their hold, my breathing still ragged, but my focus sharpened like a blade. "Let me go."
They exchanged a look over my head before releasing me, ready to grab me again if I lost control.
But I was back in the zone now, the predator fully awake and hungry.
I walked to the tool table, my fingers trailing over the options before settling on the cordless drill. The motor purred to life with a mechanical growl that made Noah whimper.
"You know what, Noah?" I said conversationally, "You're right. You were her first."
His eyes widened with something that might have been hope.
"And that," I continued, approaching his suspended form with predatory grace, "is exactly why you need to pay."
I revved it inches from his ear, the bit spinning fast enough to blur.
“Pick a hole,” I whispered. “Eye? Nose? Or…” The drill dipped lower, poking his groin. “There?”
Noah shrieked, legs kicking uselessly.
Jax looked up from his phone. “Hundred bucks says he pisses himself again.”
“Double if he passes out,” Connor countered.
Noah's bloodshot eyes darted frantically between the spinning drill bit and my face, searching for mercy he'd never find.
"P-please—" he gasped, the word barely coherent through his terror.
"Please?" I revved the drill again, savoring the way his whole body flinched at the sound.
“She begged you too, didn’t she? When you tried to force my angel into your car?"
I moved the drill to his inner thigh first, letting the bit kiss his skin just hard enough to draw a bright bead of blood.
He screamed before I'd even applied real pressure, the anticipation worse than the actual pain.
Dark amusement coursed through me—watching him scream before the torture was fucking fun.
"This is for putting your hands on what's mine.”
I drove the bit into the meat of his thigh.
The drill burrowed through muscle and sinew with wet efficiency, blood spraying and painting the concrete floor.
His scream climbed octaves, becoming something inhuman.
I twisted the drill deeper, feeling the give of flesh parting around the spinning metal.
"Beautiful," I murmured, pulling back to admire the neat hole I'd created. "But we're not done yet."
The second thigh got the same treatment, this time closer to his groin.
I could smell his fear—acrid and sharp, mixing with the metallic tang of blood and the scent of drill friction.
He was sobbing, snot and tears streaming down his face in an ugly mix.
