Page 108 of Kill Feed

I laugh. Sharp enough to make him freeze mid-sentence.

Sweat already gathers at his hairline while his chest rises too fast under the wrinkled button-up shirt. He isn’t half-bad, but no oil painting.

Adrian has God-awful taste... or not, he’s with me after all. OK, he had god-awful taste.

“Please, I-I don’t know who you’re talking about,” he continues, and it’s like music to my ears.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” I murmur, straightening. I shrug my jacket off and toss it aside before my fist crashes into his jaw. The crack echoes through the abandoned building, absorbed by the rain outside.

His head whips sideways hard enough that the chair rattles, almost toppling over with him. A broken cry rips out of him, and spit flies from his mouth as blood immediately floods across his teeth.

“FUCK—!”

He gasps violently, eyes wide and wet as he coughs around the pain.

Behind me, Marcos lets out a low whistle. “Damn,” he mutters. “You always hit this hard when you’re jealous?”

I grin without looking at him.

Gideon’s gaze now darts toward Marcos in desperate search of humanity, help, mercy—anything really.

Wrong choice. The bastard’s just as cold and callous as I am.

I grab his face, fingers digging into his cheeks as I wrench his attention back to me. “Don’t look at him,” I say softly. “Look at me.”

“T-there’s been a misunderstanding,” Gideon chokes out quickly. “I swear to God—”

“Does the name Adrian Summers ring a bell?”

The reaction is instant.

His entire body locks against the chair, breath snagging somewhere deep in his throat as recognition tears across his face.

“That kid?” His voice splinters. “Look, man—I swear, I didn’t know that fucking psycho—”

The crack of my hand against his face echoes through the building.

His head whips sideways so hard the chair screeches over the concrete, one leg lifting off the ground before slamming back down again, and for a second all I hear is the ringing in my own ears.

I grab his jaw again before he can recover, fingers digging so hard into his cheeks that his lips crush together.

“You wanna try that sentence again?” I ask. “Go ahead. I dare you.”

“Shit. You really are obsessed,” Marcos interjects from my side, taking a step back, knowing exactly what comes next.

Slapping this bitch around, watching him fill with horror is fun, stimulating in all the right ways, but there’s a difference when that stimulating fun turns to irritation and pure anger. If you think the smile I wear is tantalizing, the true danger exists when it stops.

Gideon’s voice cracks again as he pleads for his life, “Please, man, I didn’t do anything—”

My fist crashes into his mouth hard enough to snap his head backward against the metal chair.

I straighten slowly, rolling my shoulders once. “You touched him,” I whisper. “That’s enough to get you fucking killed.”

I stand back, eyes growing incredibly dark, slicking back the damp hair from my forehead. I shake out my arms before punching him, my fist landing on his cheekbone. “This is for putting your hands on Adrian.”

Hit.

“This is for kissing him.”