Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
So much for ‘I love my wife.’ Sick fuck.
Something hard lands on the grass. I turn to catch Priest stabbing a long metal pole into the earth.
His eyes widen. “What are you doing? Just kill me!” Callihan doesn’t even bat an eye. In fact, I’m betting the only real reason why Priest is being theatrical with it, is because he did some shit to Deacon.
The metal stick protrudes out from the grass, and someone on the patio clears their throat.
Priest cracks his neck, tugging on the chain to his leash.
“Please. No,” the boy pleads. It’s pathetic.
Priest yanks it again until it’s wrapping around his wrist, and his feet push him up to stand on one of the concrete stools.
Priest widens his legs on the base to steady his balance, before his hand is at the boy's throat and he’s slowly lifting him from the ground with ease.
Priest is strong, and the guy in his hand is fucking skinny as shit, but goddamn. That would still take wrist strength.
He tries to swing at Priest, but Priest whacks his hand out of the way before bringing both of his to his neck, lining the wrangling rapist up with the pole.
Priest’s lip curls up in a snarl, as the familiar shadows of evil swallow the color of his eyes. “See you in hell.”
He lets go, releasing his full weight. Metal and bone grate through the air, mixed with the distinct slush of pulped human organs. Shuffle from the patio catches the corner of my eye, but I stay fixed on the pole that’s sticking out of the guy’s mouth. The tubes of his large intestines coil around what little metal is now showing, as blood spills from his lips like lava.
“You fucking missed, dickhead…” Vaden taps his shoulder with his.
“Fuck off I did.” Priest examines his work proudly.
“You did,” Belial says from the patio with a shrug. “Can’t always get it perfect.”
I suck down enough marijuana to blow out Snoop Dogg, before exhaling and keeping my eyes on Callihan.
His grin deepens when his eyes lift to mine.
My eyes squint around smoke. “Ever heard of a blood eagle?”
His smirk falls as fast as his son’s ass did over that pole.
Someone whistles from behind me. “Damn.”
“Jesus. You’re right. They’re worse.” I hear Dad shuffle back in his chair.
“Flip him to his stomach.”
I grab my hoodie from the back collar, pulling it over my head. I turn around to toss it onto the patio, when Halen’s hand comes to mine.
She blinks up at me, taking it and folding it over her arm before slowly placing it onto the step. I think I hold my breath, waiting to follow her lead and afraid I’ll do something to fuck it up.
Her fingers flex at the hem of my white T-shirt, tugging it over my body until my arms fall to my sides. She places a gentle kiss over my chest, before lowering down onto the step that meets the grass. I don’t know if I want her this close, but I know she’s not to be argued with.
All noise in the background ceases to exist as I stare at Callihan’s bare back. Hair sprouts from his skin, and I tap the wooden pump with my foot, lowering his body to my level.
He tugs on the chains again around his wrists, lifting his face from the wood, but I press the sharp end of my blade against the nape of his neck, just enough to break the skin.
Blood trickles over my arm as I continue with the incision, trailing all the way down until I hit the bottom of his tailbone.
Show. Fucking. Time.
Using the knife, I make a four-point cut from across his shoulders, and to the lower level of his back. When it looks like a capital I, I bite down on the bloody handle of my knife as I bury my fingers beneath his skin. Lumps of fat get in the way, but I manage to separate his skin enough to start.
Once I’m sure I have enough of a grip, I give one forceful tug, and the skin on his back rips open, tearing away from the meat of his muscles.
His head bends at an unnatural angle, as the convulses start vibrating through him and his pale body goes limp.
I stagger backward, sucking in a deep breath as the adrenaline bounces around inside my body like a damn ping-pong ball. I can feel the erratic beating of my heart slow to an exhausted thud. As if all of the rage and anger that I harnessed over time has finally beaten down a door and used it as an outlet.
“Bravo! Just—” Belial stands from his chair, clapping his hands loudly with a wide grin. “That’s—” He gestures to the display. “Art! Both of them!”
“Jesus,” Bishop cusses, standing to his full height. I still haven’t leveled back out when he pulls me into his arms, slapping my back.