The Butcher of the Bay Part II - J. Bree Page 0,21

stronger than mine but I’m prepared for the move and when he pushes my arm to the side I slam my forehead into the bridge of his nose. There’s a crunch and he roars in pain, the hot spray of his blood spattering over my face as it pours out from the broken mess of cartilage and bone. My eyes have white light bursts and I blink rapidly to ignore them and the pain radiating from the point of impact. I need to move fast.

I take advantage of his distraction and the easing of his grip as he rears back on one arm and I yank my hand out, swinging with all my strength until the knife is buried in his shoulder. I’m terrified of his men hearing and coming in to find out why he is screaming, so I pull the knife out again and swing at his flailing body again and again. My stomach revolts at the feel of the knife slicing through his flesh but my consciousness switches off, letting the adrenaline take over me and my mind empties out.

His gasping body falls away from me and onto the bed, his arms pinwheeling a little and catching me on the arm but I ignore the pain, sitting up onto my knees to stab him again, over and over, until the gurgling and wheezing sounds in his chest stop.

The popping noises sound again but the pain in my head is once again severe, what little relief I’d gotten from being unconscious back in the Jackal’s car once again gone. I wonder, in a detached and dazed sort of way, how permanent this damage is going to be and if I’ll always bear the damage of my abductions.

Finally, after I’m sure he’s no longer able to move, I stop stabbing him and with shaking arms I slit his throat just to be extra sure he’s dead.

His heart has clearly stopped because the blood doesn’t gush out, it’s more of a sluggish and slow bleed out.

My chest is heaving and my ears are ringing, everything seeming both loud and distant. How am I going to make it out of this room like this? I’ve seen at least two dozen men since arriving here, there’s no way I can use this tiny knife alone to get out of here.

I pat down Lord Devareux’s body but he’s unarmed, so confident in the drugs he’d attempted to give me that he doesn’t even have a weapon to use as protection… or maybe he never expected me to try anything. I shove his body off of the bed in disgust.

How many girls has he had here before? How many has he raped without their knowledge?

The popping sound is closer this time and then I jump at the ear-splitting sound of the door shattering away from the doorframe.

Mon Monstre is here for me, his face the picture of devastation.

Mon Monstre stares at me until I blink and then he's charging forward, scooping me into his arms and patting down my body with rough hands.

"Where are you bleeding, baby girl? Fuck, where, baby? Kid, grab me something to stop the bleeding!"

I notice Lips standing in the doorway as she steps forward out of a stupor and then darts around the room, grabbing up the man's discarded shirt, one I hadn’t noticed he lost, but she stops as she comes around the other side of the bed.

"Illi—"

"Gimme the fucking thing! Baby, tell me where the blood is coming from!" His hands are desperate.

I find my voice, rough as it is, "It's not my blood, mon Monstre."

He blinks at me, his hands still moving around, and Lips says, "Illi, the buyer is dead at my feet. Odie took care of it herself."

He blinks down at me again, then gently moves to hoist me into his arms properly so he can walk around and look at the body himself without letting me go.

I’m glad, I don’t ever want him to let me go.

"Well, fuck me. Baby girl, you did a fucking great job of it too," he murmurs into my hair and I preen at the compliment.

I did do a great job of it.

I did an amazing job of it, even with my concussion, and I tuck my face into his neck. "I'm very glad you and Lips taught me so well, mon Monstre, but I'm happy to leave the deaths to you from now on."

He rumbles under his breath in agreement, and then helps me to my feet.