Page 50 of Demons In My Head: Exposing the Exiled
“Fucking worthless!” I cut him off, feeling my fury bubbling over again.
I grabbed another object—a heavy vase, this time more elegant than functional—and hurled it at the wall beside him. It exploded into pieces, shards glinting ominously under the dim light like broken promises.
“Do you understand?” I shouted at him as he flinched away from me. “She used that bond with that ghost to disrupt my control! If she can do that…” I couldn’t finish the thought; rage constricted around my throat like a vice, but I couldn't show any sign of weakness. Not now. So I turned my expression to stone and flipped the script entirely. "Imagine what I'll be capable of once she's working with me, instead. I want her every movement tracked!"
The man swallowed hard, his gaze darting to the shattered remnants around us before returning to meet mine. “W-we’ll find her,” he stammered. “We have our connections.”
“Connections?” I spat out the word like poison. “What good are connections if they can’t even keep track of one little spirit witch?”
I stepped closer to the man, my boots crunching on the shattered remnants of the vase. His breath hitched as I invaded his space, my presence alone enough to make him tremble. I could see the fear in his eyes, the way his pupils dilated, and the pulse in his neck quickened. He was terrified, and I reveled in it.
"You're right," I said, my voice deceptively soft, like the calm before a storm. "Connections are everything." I reached out, tracing a line down his cheek with my fingertip. He flinched at the touch, but I held his gaze, pinning him in place. "And you have them, don't you?"
He nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "Y-yes, Scorpio. I do."
I smiled, a slow, cruel curve of my lips that promised pain and retribution. "Good. Then use them. She’s still at Haunt. I want herback." My voice was a low growl, a command that brooked no argument.
He nodded again, more vigorously this time. "I will. We’ll get her. I swear."
I leaned in, my breath hot on his ear. "You’d better. Because if you don't, you know what happens to those who fail me." I pulled back, just enough to see his face. The terror in his eyes was a beautiful sight, a testament to my power.
"I-I know," he stammered. "I won't fail you, Scorpio. I promise."
I stepped back, releasing him from my intense gaze. He sagged slightly, relief washing over him. But I wasn't done yet.I wanted to drive the point home, to ensure he understood the consequences of failure.
"Remember what happened to the last man who promised me something and didn't deliver?" I asked, my voice casual, as if we were discussing the weather.
He paled, the blood draining from his face as he remembered the way I’d used my mind control on that disappointment who’d failed me. In the end, he shot himself in both kneecaps. It was a fond memory of mine. "Y-yes," he whispered.
I nodded, satisfied. "Good. Then you know what's at stake. Now go. Find her. And bring her to me."
He turned and fled the room, his footsteps echoing down the corridor. I watched him go, a sense of satisfaction washing over me. Fear was a powerful motivator, and I knew how to wield it like a weapon.
I turned back to the chaos of my room, a slow smile spreading across my face. Palmer thought she could outsmart me, thought she could hide from me. But she was wrong. I would get her. And when I did, she would pay for her defiance. She would learn the true meaning of power, of control. And she would be mine, once and for all.
Despite everything, a sinister grin curled on my lips—the thrill of vengeance surged within me like fire igniting gasoline. Palmer Vale would pay for this betrayal; no matter how long it took or how many obstacles lay ahead, I would reclaim what was mine—even if it meant tearing apart everything in my path to do so.
With one final glance around my destroyed sanctuary, determination surged anew within me—I would bend this realm to my will or burn it down trying.
"Get in here!" I roared, my voice resonating through the halls. Within seconds, my most trusted soldiers, Graves and Bullworm, rushed in, their faces pale with fear. I was fucking pissed, and they knew it.
"Sir," Graves began, his voice shaking slightly. His eyes landed on my bloody leg that was still dripping. "We have the medics standing by. They're ready to—"
"Shut up," I snapped, cutting him off. "I don't need your fucking medics. I need answers."
I turned to Bullworm, my eyes narrowing. "How did they escape the compound? How did Palmer slip through your fingers?"
Bullworm swallowed hard, his eyes darting to the floor. "We underestimated her, sir. She had help. Meredith. She let her out of her room, and that ghost? He's got to be more than just a spirit. He's powerful."
I let out a low, menacing growl. "And you think that excuses your incompetence? You think that justifies letting them walk out of here? I want eyes on that fucking club at all times, do you understand?!”
Graves and Bullworm nodded, their faces set with determination. "Yes, sir. We'll see to it immediately."
As they rushed out of the room, I turned my attention to the wound on my thigh. It was a reminder of my failure, a symbol of my enemies' defiance. I gritted my teeth, the pain fueling my resolve. I wouldn't let them get the best of me. Not again.
I strode over to my desk, pulling out a hidden compartment. Inside lay a vial of dark liquid, a concoction of my own design. I’d been microdosing with it for a few weeks now, and the effects were intoxicating. I was stronger than ever, but I needed to bemore. It was a risk, a gamble with my own life, but I was willing to take it. I needed the edge, the power to crush my enemies once and for all.
I uncorked the vial, downing the contents in one swift gulp. The liquid burned like fire, coursing through my veins, amplifying my senses. I could feel the power surging within me, the darkness consuming me. It was a dangerous game, but I wasa master manipulator. I knew how to bend the rules and twist the odds in my favor.
