Final Debt (Indebted #6)(24)

I didn’t reply as his knees touched the back of mine.

I didn’t move as his thighs pressed against mine.

I didn’t flinch as the tip of his cock entered me.

I waited.

I hunted.

I swallowed my tears and fears.

Another inch inside me.

His awareness faded, focusing entirely on sex.

Weaker…weaker…

And still I waited.

Another centimetre of my enemy’s cock inside me.

I paused for the perfect moment.

Now.

I attacked.

Rage stole everything.

I wasn’t afraid of repercussions or consequences.

I wasn’t afraid of getting hurt or dying.

All I cared about was ending this monstrosity before he took my soul.

“Fuck you!” Throwing myself to the side, his cock slipped out and Daniel’s hold fumbled. The ground kissed my shoulder, rattling my teeth as I flipped onto my back beneath him.

For a moment, I drank in the final image I would have of Daniel. He stood poised on his knees, his cock swollen and hungry, his face rageful and surprised. A simple man turned into a despicable creature. He was no longer human. Just the mistake. The unwanted.

I did the world a favour.

I did the only thing I could do.

“Goodbye, Daniel.”

Sitting upright, I hugged his shoulders, lining my trajectory for perfect aim. I wrapped my fingers around the needle; I pressed my face into his throat. Energy exploded. Righteousness detonated. I bared my teeth and bit his neck as my arm soared up, faster and faster, guided by the divine, flying with ghosts of my family, winging with the precision of fate, and pierced my mortal enemy.

The sharpness of the knitting needle slipped as easily and as cleanly as a knife slipped through expensive steak. Up and up, puncturing through his ribcage, slicing through his lung, and finally, finally, finally perforating his heart.

Time stopped.

The world ceased to spin.

Daniel turned from rutting animal to shocked puppet.

His eyes popped wide as the softest cry tumbled from his lips. His gaze met mine. His hand flew to where the knitting needle lanced his side. He was no longer my adversary but merely thread, welcoming my needle, ready to be transformed into a seamstress’s masterpiece.

And then, he toppled.

Falling, falling, falling to his side.

Vertigo teased as death swooped across Almasi Kipanga and whipped into the tent. My wrist twisted as I fell with him, never letting go of the needle. I rolled, straddling him, forcing the weapon further into his heart. I almost lost my grip as he bucked and lurched, but I didn’t let go. Using two hands, I pushed down. Harder. Harder.

Die, Daniel. Die.

I’d researched how to take a life while existing at Hawksridge. I’d read articles, watched examples, planned the perfect murder. To puncture a heart didn’t guarantee death. A ‘stiletto’ type perforation could be survived.

I had no intention of letting Daniel survive.

Locking my knees either side of his chest, I ripped the needle free.

An agonising groan came from his chest as blood oozed from the hole.

Daniel’s stupor fell away. His hands reached for my throat, his fingers shaking and weak as his blood pressure dropped from the orifice gushing in his chest. His brain starved for oxygen the longer his heart bled. He only had seconds before the machine of his body shut down.

His arms flailed. His palm struck my cheek, desperate to hurt.

Tears spurted and pain smarted, but I didn’t move. I wouldn’t have the power to fight him if his body hadn’t turned traitor, poisoning him from the inside out. But right now, I had all the power in the world.

“You f*cking cu—” He coughed, his fingers slipping in their attempt to curl around my neck, grasping my collar instead. The impenetrable diamonds kept me safe from being throttled as I arched my arm and prepared to complete my final strike.

“Die.” The needle glistened with dripping crimson as it hurtled through the air and kissed his skin again. The wickedly sharp point crunched its way through flesh and fat, returning to lodge in his most important organ.

Daniel howled, his torso thrashing, face straining. He hit me, struck me, tried to knock me over. But I had an anchor—the needle. I held on, pushing down with all my might driving the end home.

“You can’t stop me.”

He bellowed as the needle tip slid deeper, deeper, past gristle and bone, impaling my victim inch by inch. He twitched and bucked, his fingers unable to snare as his nervous system shut down.

The wet squelch of my needle ripping another hole in his heart brought rushing nausea, but I didn’t falter. All masterful killers knew to make the result permanent, dedication and desire had to be invoked.

I was dedicated.

I desired freedom.

I would finish this.

Holding the base of the needle, I twisted it like a corkscrew.

“Ah!” Daniel jerked. His arms fell to his side, scrabbling at the needle, but it was too late. Adrenaline would keep him animated for another few seconds, but it was already done.

I took his life, not with horror or regret, but with no mercy and complete acceptance.

A life for a life.

He owed me that.

Watching him succumb iced my blood, turning me into a ruthless executioner. His golden eyes met mine, gasping for hope and help. His motions turned languid and dull, a broken pawn, never to live again.