Page 71 of Reclaimed

“Wha–” Harris starts, a wet, garbled cough taking over as he spits out a glob of blood. “What do you want?”

I straighten slowly, tapping a finger against my chin as I turn towards Talon. “What do I want?”

His blue eyes glimmer with amusement as the corner of his mouth curls into a grin, but he doesn’t respond. He’s leaving it up to me, as promised.

Harris isn’t the only monster who tortured me in the past, but with Commander Martin and Austin Miller gone, he’s the only one left to exact vengeance upon. After all I’ve been put through, I more than deserve my pound of flesh, and you can bet your bottom dollar that I’m taking more than just a pound from this prick.

“Justice,” I say with a shrug, the blade of Talon’s Bowie knife glinting under the light of the chandelier as I twirl it between my fingers. “Or revenge. The line feels pretty fucking thin from this side of the leash.”

“For what?” Harris rasps through bloodied teeth. “You’re an Asset, you were being used how you were intended to be.”

Humming in response, I take another step closer to the platform. “Then I guess you won’t mind if I do the same.” I roll the handle of the knife in my palm. “Though I don’t really need all of you…”

His face screws up in a grimace as I reach for his crotch, grabbing hold of the sad, skin-colored gherkin that looks more like a diseased growth than a useful appendage. I drag the serrated side of the blade over the base of his shaft, Harris crying out as tiny beads of blood rise along his skin.

“Jesus,” Talon huffs. “You have to pull it taut if you’re going to saw, or else you're just going to maul the skin and accomplish nothing.”

“Sorry,” I chirp, holding my hands up with an innocent shrug. “I haven’t cut a dick off before.”

“At least you’re better at fucking swallowing them,” he murmurs.

I cut him a glare, then return to my task, gripping and pulling the saggy mess tight before sawing at it with the blade again. Flesh rips, exposing tissue and muscle as blood sprays in my face.

“Look,” Talon muses. “He’s a squirter, too.”

“Ha ha, asshole.”

Harris screams, thrashing and attempting to twist away, but he’s got nowhere to go. With a final drag of the blade, the skin finally severs, ragged edges curling back. I toss his dick over my shoulder with a smile as Harris convulses and whimpers.

“Fu-ucking bitch,” he pants.

“What was it you said that night?” I ask, having way too much fun drawing this out. “That I didn’t have a proper tag of ownership yet? Is that right?”

He responds with a moan of pain, a sheen of sweat coating his skin as he writhes at my feet.

“I can fix that,” I offer, sinking to my knees beside him.

I drive the blade into his abdomen, the skin breaking open with a wet pop. Blood rushes to the surface with each sweep and drag of the knife as I work my way towards his chest, Harris wailing in pain with each cut I carve into him.

Once I’ve finished, I rock back on to my heels, glancing back at Talon over my shoulder. “Whatcha think?”

“That’s not your name,” he growls, stalking forward. His hand lashes out, thumb and forefinger pinching my chin and tilting my head up. “Say it.”

An undeniable heat simmers low in my belly, and I have to squeeze my thighs together as the ache grows stronger.

“Jersey,” I reply breathlessly, gazing up at him.

“Good girl,” he praises, bending down to slam his lips against mine. His teeth sink into my bottom lip, dragging as he pulls back, face hovering inches from mine. “Now make sure he dies knowing it.”

I nod resolutely, pushing up to my feet as Talon straightens. “A little help?” I ask, tipping my head towards the heavy pile of chains on the platform.

“My fucking pleasure,” he growls, gathering the chain easily and tossing an end over the metal truss above the platform.

Harris continues to cough and choke, his body seizing as blood dribbles from the corner of his mouth. The chain grinds and clanks as Talon yanks on it, Harris’s body slowly rising farther with metallic scrape until his toes brush the ground, body dangling by the pink collar fastened around his throat.

He chokes and sputters, fighting against his restraints.

“Oops,” I say, feigning concern. “But don’t worry, I can fix it.”