“With that part, yes. That was for what you did to Adeline. The rest is all for me.”
I cross the room to crouch at my bag, unzip it and pull out the sledgehammer that made it so heavy. Normally, I’m not this messy with my kills, but the bastard has it coming.
Grant’s one good eye widens when I spin back, piss dribbling down his leg that puddles near his feet. I glance down at it, cock a brow and look back at his face.
“For every time you hurt her. For every time you raped her. For every insult, every snap of your fingers in her face, for the control you took over her life, I’ve added another bone to break. You won’t survive this, Grant. But you will feel every fucking second of it.”
One swing and his left shin shatters. He screams like a stuck pig, tears finally leaking from his eyes.
“No! Stop!”
I swing again, his right shin shatters. Another two swings and his feet are crushed. Two more and his femurs snap apart. His arms are next, his hands and fingers. Both fucking shoulders, the violence of the swings knocking his chair to the floor.
The cabin is filled with the tortured voice of a man dying slowly, the loudest one coming when I swing the hammer down between his legs. The only parts of him I’ve left intact are his chest and head because I want him conscious for every moment of this.
Blood leaks across the wood floor, pieces of the chair broken where the sledgehammer cracked down against his body.
He’s barely aware at this point, the pain too much, his body going into shock.
Leaning over him, I pressed my mouth to his ear, smiling at the way he shakes.
“I’d planned on cutting off your dick and feeding it to you. But there’s not much left of it now, is there? Good luck in Hell, Grant Cabot. I’ll be sure to meet you there when it’s my turn to die.”
Pushing to my feet, I break every rib, his sternum, crush his throat before finally swinging the hammer down at this head.
The screaming stops. The cabin so quiet that it’s foreign to my ears.
Of course Lincoln would be the one to spoil the moment. “Well, that’s one way to do it.”
Glancing down at the blood and bits of brain matter splattered on my pants, I laugh and turn my head to look at him.
“I’m not done.”
His brows tug together. “I’m not sure you can kill him a second time, Ari. Not unless you have a voodoo doctor tucked in that bag who can bring him to life again.”
My brow cocks. “Damn. I should have thought of that. Now you say something.”
Rumbling laughter fills the space as I push to my feet and cross the room to grab the bottle of lighter fluid I brought and a pack of matches. Setting them on the floor next to me, I grab the rest of my supplies, hearing Lincoln curse under his breath when he sees them.
After dousing Grant’s body, I toss matches at him until one finally catches, then I hold out the stick I’d brought, the marshmallow stuck on the end browning nicely.
“You’re not actually going to eat that are you?”
I bring it to my mouth, blow out the flame, and bite down, laughing as his face turns a shade of green.
“You’re fucking sick. Let’s get out of here before the entire place goes up in smoke.”
Quickly packing my bag, I shoulder it and walk with Lincoln out of the cabin. We’re at the end of the long footpath leading to the waiting car when the propane tanks we’d left behind explode into a violent blast that lights up the sky behind us.
“Do you feel better now?” Lincoln asks casually as he climbs into the passenger seat while I take the driver’s side.
“A little. Thanks for asking. But I’ll feel a hell of a lot better when they trace the cabin and car rental back to Grant’s sister.”
I turn to glance at him as we pull away, another explosion rocking the dead of night.
“Were you able to plant the phone in her house? Or did you fuck that job up, too?”
His eyes slide to me, a grin tugging at his mouth.
“Things should be interesting tomorrow. The stupid bitch will have no idea what’s coming.”
Smiling at that, I weave through the forest roads, turning onto an offshoot that will keep us far away from fire engines and police cars on their way