Page 90 of Watch Me Burn
The irony of that statement stops me cold. Isn’t that what I do?
This ritual should focus me. It should cleanse me, smooth over my jagged edges through the precision of pain. But tonight, every instrument on my table hums with accusation. My mind refuses to stay present. It keeps pulling me back to the barn. To the devastation on Luna’s face as she confessed her infidelity—not realizing she was confessing to the very man she thought she wasbetraying.
I’ve been seeing someone else.
He makes me feel claimed. Like I belong to him completely.
He can’t be part of my daylight world. What we have exists in shadows.
Because when I’m with him, I feel more alive, more myself, than I ever have before.
I can’t give you all of me when part of me belongs to someone else.
I roll my shoulders and drag my focus back to the present. I can’t afford distractions. Not here. Not now.
“I apologize.” Travis stares at me in confusion. “I’m not myself tonight. But don’t worry. I’ll still give you the attention you deserve.”
I light a cigarette even though I despise the taste and smell. But I do what I must to make them pay. Always torturing them the way they hurt their animals.
Smoke coils upward as I press the glowing tip against his right nipple, dragging it across skin already pale with fear. His back arches, and the scent of burning flesh fills the basement. He screams, muffled but harrowing, the table under him vibrating with each convulsion of his body.
One burn at a time, I work the cigarettes across his skin. His torso first, then the curve of his ribs, and then across his abdomen. The final burn goes to the head of his cock, deliberate and vicious. Each burn smokes black, the smell a twisted perfume in the dank basement air. His body trembles, slick with sweat and blood.
When the last cigarette burns down to ash, I set it aside and pick up my serrated knife. The blade is long, its teeth jagged like the broken promises of my past. I make the first cut, a precise slash over his bicep, just enough to draw a ribbon of blood. His gagged screams rise once more, raw and keening, and it’s music to my ears.
I lean in. “The puppy that was brought to Sage & Summit is going to live. Dr. Foster is extraordinarily good at what she does. Healing what monsters like you break.”
At Luna’s name, my chest tightens. The memory of her tears in the barn replays in my mind. The confusion in her eyes when I didn’t rage at her confession. Howcould I? How could I condemn her for falling in love with both sides of me when that’s all I’ve wanted?
Travis thrashes against his restraints, the movement jerking me back.
Focus, Wolfe. Stay present.
My pulse hammers against my skull. Air drags through my lungs too fast, too shallow. The blade wavers in my grip. The work that’s always centered me, given me clarity—it’s hollow now, powerless, as Luna fills every corner of my mind.
I miss touching her, kissing her, and the sounds she makes when she’s breaking apart for me. I want to be there for her but can’t, not in the way I should or the way she needs.
I press the blade to Travis’ chest, deeper than I intended. His scream explodes past the duct tape, wet and ragged. Blood flows faster than it should.
“Fuck.” I reach for his shirt on the floor and jam it against the wound. “Not yet. Not like this.”
I’m sloppy tonight. Distracted. This isn’t how I work. This isn’t me.
But who am I, really?
The controlled businessman who courts Luna in the day?
The masked lover who takes her in dark?
The killer who removes predators like Travis from the world?
The lines keep shifting and blurring since Luna entered my life.
My mind won't stay on the work. My hands move without purpose, graceless and robotic, and the whole thing ends quicker than it should. There’s no artistry, no finesse, just brutal efficiency. The knife pierces his flesh in crude, functional strikes, lacking any elegance. When it’s done, I stumble back, chest heaving, black fabric drenched and spattered. Travis Miller won’t hurt another animal.
But there’s no triumph. No satisfaction. Just emptiness echoing through my chest, vast and cold.
I begin the meticulous process of cleaning my tools. That’s the one thing I do myself. The rest I leave for Cade. I contemplate what I should bring Luna this time. She’s asked me to stop with the “gifts” after kills. But I still want her toknow when justice has been delivered for one of her animals. I could just tell her outright, but that feels flat and empty.
