Page 34 of Hunt Me

Charls has enough self-preservation to do as my brother commands. His lips are cracked, and it’s going to take him days—maybe weeks—to get all that glue off.

“Milo,” Percy says, his voice toneless.

My brother steps up, looking bored as ever—rumpled, his black shirt covered in cat hair. He looks down at Percy without touching him because Milo does not like touching other people.

At all.

Ever.

“You fucked up,” Milo says, then stops to yawn. “Pick a number.”

Charls blinks rapidly, tears welling in his eyes, dribbling over his lower eyelids. “Why?” The word comes out a whisper.

“Do as I fucking say. You don’t want me to pick for you. Trust me.”

Charls whimpers, but my brothers show him no mercy. When he tries to turn his head, Percy wrenches it back so he’s forced to stare at Milo.

“I have all night,” Milo says.

That’s not true. He has a very strict routine for his cats, but Charls doesn’t need to know that.

Charls’s tongue touches his lower lip. It’s gross. I think I might hate him. Maybe I should tell Percy we can just kill him and fulfill the contract that way because I’m sick of looking at his face. Would anyone seriously miss this guy?

It feels like forever passes when he finally whispers, “Two.”

Milo looks disappointed, and I know why. He hums, then looks back at me with a shrug. “Toes.”

I give a sharp nod, and Charls lets out a cry, but Percy pulls the glue bottle from his pocket and seals his mouth up again, holding his chin tight until it’s dry enough that Charls can’t pull his lips apart.

It muffles his screaming, which is nice because I forgot my earplugs. Taking out my knife kit, I look for the one that cuts through bone best as Percy stands back in front of him and leans down, holding his hair firmly so Charls can’t look away.

“If you hire us, you hire us.Wedo the job. We don’t need someone micromanaging us or trying to make us look incompetent by burning down a fucking building and leaving behind evidence. We’re trying to build a life here, and you will not ruin it because your wife and mistress decided to climb off your cheese-dick and no one wants to touch you. And you’re very lucky I’m feeling merciful tonight. Do you understand?” Percy waits while I pull out the knife I was looking for. “Nod.”

Charls does. Frantically.

Percy holds him by the cheek. “Nail polish remover will get rid of the glue. It’ll taste like ass, but it’ll do the job. And if yougo to the ER and a word of this slips past your lips, you won’t keep your tongue. Understand?”

Charls whimpers, nodding as he openly cries, and oh…great. Just like I thought, he pissed himself. Luckily, it’s not near his foot because while I don’t mind body fluids on men I want to fuck, on men likethis?

No fucking thank you.

Milo steps back into the shadows while Percy drops to the ground and yanks off Charls’s expensive shoe and sock. He tosses it onto the ground before looking up at me.

“Leave him the big toe.”

I was going to anyway. That would take too long, and I have a call to make and then my little rabbit to catch. I drop to the ground, paying no attention to the way Charls is squirming and begging and screaming in his throat.

This part is easy—simple.

The knife cuts the flesh, and pressure breaks the bone. He screams louder as I watch blood pool on the ground. It’s rich and red—not as pretty as some things, but pretty enough. It stains the silver knife as I make the final cuts, and then Charls’s head sags forward.

“He passed out,” Milo says.

“Of course he did.” Percy rubs the back of his neck with a sigh. “Rock, paper, scissors for who drops him off at the clinic?”

“You always pick rock,” Milo complains, holding out his fist.

I stand as they bounce their hands in the air.