Subject Me To Love [Book Two]

Chapter Forty-Five

*Not edited* Not proofread*

Chapter 45– He looks heavy:

"Please! Don't do this! Please, I have a family!"

I stare down at the man with disgust as I grip his broken jaw in my hand. He cries out in pain and his swollen eyes screw themselves shut. His split lips tremor, with fear or sadness I can't tell. Maybe it's a bit of both.

"You should have thought about that before you put your hands on that little redhead then, huh?" I remind him with a mocking raise of the eyebrow, throwing his head to the side as I let go off his face, the place his ear used to be leaking with blood.

He once again cries out in agony and I roll my eyes at his dramatics, his wails only serving in increasing my annoyance. As he continues to plead for his life, I take the time to trail my eyes around his dismembered figure, a sense of pride making its way to my already big head.

I sure am good at what I do.

"So," I fold my arms as I lean against the wooden wall of the abandoned cabin, my feet crossed at the ankles as I twirl a knife between my fingers. My head tilts. "Any last words before I cut out your tongue."

*
Two hours earlier.

315 Cane Road, Raven Creek.

I double check the address for what seems like the millionth time in the last twenty minutes as I sit in another stolen car across from the house in question. Jace tells me I need to stop doing that, carjacking people, but I don't really see the problem with it— I return it when I'm done, so what's the issue?

Snubbing out the lit cigarette against the side of my wrist, adding a new scar to the accumulating bunch, I shut the engine off and grab the gun that lays on the middle console, shoving it into the back of my jeans as I get out of the stolen Ford and slam the door closed.

I survey the area around me, turning my head to get a proper look at my surroundings as I adjust my jumper to cover the gun. The street is empty; quiet. No one is around at this time, not so surprisingly as it's almost midnight, but the street is pretty secluded anyway; the houses few and far apart. The estate screams rich people, so I wonder why this Andres Santos would do Mac's dirty work. I doubt that's how he gets the money to afford such a large house in a not-so-horrible area, so he must have a decent job, or at least a good source of income. So why would he do this?

It's one of the many things on the never-ending list that I don't understand about people. Why can they never be happy with the things they have? Why must they always want more than what they need, than what they deserve? Entitled, greedy, selfish, money-hungry—.

"I think you're getting a little carried away," Nine appears next to me, staring over at the same house that I was glaring at. Her knotted hair looks odd as it lays flat and lifeless against her scalp, falling down her bruised shoulders that are exposed in the oversized white shirt she wears despite the raging wind that numbs my cheeks. I side-eye her without a word, not giving away anything that would indicate that I've noticed her presence. But, of course, she's part of my mind so she knows I'm ignoring her on purpose.

"So what's your plan?" She asks me as I make my way over to Santos' house, staying as close to the shadows as I possibly can. I can't see much of the house now that night has fallen, but I've been sitting outside his house long enough know that the driveway is unnaturally clean and the grass is neatly trimmed. The car out front belongs to Santos himself and I know there's usually another silver one in the garage which belongs to the womanhe lives with, however she went out hours ago with her kid. The house itself is nice; big.