Chapter 39

THIRTY-NINE

Laura

R ain smattered the man's face, making rivers which fled down into the collar of his top.

I shivered, the cold wind freezing against my wet clothes.

Silently, he watched as Phoenix finished securing the weighted containers to the dead man's body.

I could hear my heart beat through the noisy wind as Phoenix rolled the man to the side of the boat, sliding the weighted containers over the edge, the ropes attached pulling the wrapped body overboard.

Then he was gone. One splash, and out of our lives.

Our captive dug his nails into the material of his trousers, his wrists reddening against the ropes holding him. Seeing the way Phoenix disposed of his friend without a care, had him finally looking nervous.

Phoenix joined us, wiping his hands on his thighs. ‘So, there's no doubting Massimo sent you, but we need to extract a little information before we send you down to the sea bed with your pal.'

The man narrowed his eyes, looking from Phoenix's face to mine.

‘Why would I tell you anything when you'll kill me anyway?' He spat the words at us.

Phoenix grinned, his scarred lips looking terrifying with the unhinged look in his eyes. He'd warned me he was going to intimidate our captive, and that I could stay inside rather than see it. I'd wanted to stay, but I hadn't realised how creepy Phoenix could be when he wanted to.

‘Because,' Phoenix said, walking over to the chair where the man was bound, ‘it's the difference between the state you go down to visit Davy Jones's locker. In one piece, neatly put down like a beloved pet. Or looking like a fucking smashed watermelon.'

A dark patch spread around the man's crotch, making Phoenix take a measured step backward.

‘Just kill me already,' the man begged.

‘All in good time. Now how about you tell me about Massimo's current whereabouts?' I wrapped my arms around myself as Phoenix spoke, wishing it was all over.

‘I don't fucking know.' In a fit of rage, the man tore at the ropes, his chair shuddering against the deck, but holding him fast despite his outburst.

‘Let's see if we can jog your memory,' Phoenix said with a smile. He opened a red case, pulling out what looked like an orange gun. The upper part of the case held white and orange tubes. He looked over at me, his face softening. ‘You sure you want to be here?'

My stomach churned, but I gave a nod .

The gun opened up, and Phoenix slid one of the smaller, chunkier red tubes into the barrel-like portion.

‘What the fuck do you think those are going to do? Sending for the fucking coastguard?' The man scoffed.

Phoenix stood, stretching out his back and clicking the barrel into place. ‘It'll send for something…'

The man practically snarled when Phoenix walked over to him, pulling up his t-shirt to expose the man's stomach.

‘A flare gun isn't going to do jack shit. You've got my fucking gun, why not just do the job properly?' I couldn't believe the guy had the balls to talk to Phoenix like that given his predicament. What an idiot.

A click sounded over the wind as Phoenix primed what I now knew to be the flare gun. I pressed my lips together, also not entirely convinced it would do much. Flares were just lights.

‘Where were you supposed to take Laura?' Phoenix said, his voice lowering to a deep, almost intoxicating level.

‘Fuck you.'

The shot gave more of a wet thunk than anything else. It took a moment for the man's face to register what happened. His eyes widened and he let out an ear-splitting yell. Blood trickled out of the wound on his lower abdomen, along with smoke.

‘Holy fuck,' the man cried, his body writhing as if possessed by a whole army of demons. ‘Make it stop. Make it fucking stop. It's burning my insides.'

A wave of vomit hit the back of my throat, and I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowing it down. The sounds escaping the man blackened my soul, horrible animalistic noises. Panting, crying, begging.

‘Make it stop,' I pleaded after a minute.

‘Soon,' Phoenix answered, gripping the man's hair and hauling his head back. ‘Where were you supposed to meet? I need the details.'

‘A warehouse in Sherbourne Wharf,' the injured man panted. ‘Need to text the code to the number for when.'

We'd already secured the man's phone.

‘What is the code?' Phoenix asked. Placing the gun against the man's chest when he hesitated.

‘R-r-rabbit… for… dinner,' he stuttered. ‘Send it to the one marked Graham.'

Phoenix stood back, taking the phone from his pocket, leaning forward to use the mans thumb to unlock it. He scrolled through, before typing for a moment. We waited, the man blubbering in his chair, foamy blood gushing from his stomach with every laboured breath.

The phone chimed, and Phoenix grinned. ‘At least he's learned not to lie.'

Phoenix slid the phone back into his pocket before grabbing a set of shears from the ledge next to the seat where he'd placed the flare gun. He wrestled it around the man's thumb.

‘You said you'd put me out of my misery,' the man said, his whole body shuddering.

‘I will. But I'll need this, for the phone.'

A sickening crunch filled my ears moments before another sorrowful wail filled the air. The thumb hit the deck, rolling toward me as the boat lurched.

I wanted to puke, real fucking bad.

‘Catch it,' Phoenix said, dropping the shears, but too late to catch the rolling digit.

Leaning down, I stopped the bloody stump of a finger, scooping it up, my face twisting in horror.

‘Good girl,' Phoenix said, his face breaking into a smile.

I shuddered, closing my hand around the thumb and trying desperately to imagine it to be anything else. Another wave of vomit threatened me, and I struggled to fight it down.

With the flare gun back in hand, Phoenix stood behind the man, hauling his head roughly back. He forced the flare gun into the man's mouth, right down past his teeth.

‘Next life, try to pick the right sides,' he said gruffly.

Tears slid down the man's face, blood bubbling from his stomach with each tortured breath. Phoenix cocked the flare gun, and my knees turned to jelly.

The man's body stiffened as the gun went off, his eyes bugging out of his head. Phoenix let go of him, and I watched as blood and sparks came sputtering out of his gaping mouth. Smoke billowed from his maw, like a dragon had taken residence in his stomach.

Strangled cries hit me, before foamy blood poured from his mouth like lava.

He thrashed, his arms cutting against the ropes, tearing through his own flesh as he burned up from the inside out.

I'd seen all I could take.

Running into the cabin, I tossed the thumb in the sink and ran down to the bedroom, burying myself beneath the duvet.

Killing was wrong.

So why did I feel so proud that Phoenix had tortured the man to protect me ?

Why did I love that he killed the men who dared touch me?

I should have been disgusted. Terrified.

The sight of the man dying had horrified me, but it had also left me feeling something else.

Cherished .