Page 96 of Ruthless Salvation

Damyon yanked against his bindings. Judging from the fury in his frigid eyes, my comment riled him more than the pain. The man was fucking deranged. Nostrils flaring, he stilled, eyes boring into me, as the skin bearing his inked star puckered and singed.

Maybe I was deranged too, because I wasn’t remotely disturbed at the sight. Quite the opposite. A smug smile teased at the corners of my lips, relishing a small taste of justice as I moved the flaming torch to the star on his left side.

Sweat began to dot his forehead.

The Russian maggot tried to put on a stoic front, but his shields faltered as the rank odor of burning flesh filled the room. After a few minutes, any remaining ink under the disfigured skin was no longer recognizable. Effective, though too quick for my liking. But the fun wasn’t over.

Again, I squatted down and used the gas spout like a straw, covering one end to create suction that would hold a small portion of gas.

“And what about your knees? Do they have stars as well? I know you lot like to boast that you kneel before no one.” I lifted my gaze to his. “I suppose that’s still true since you can’t kneel when you’re dead.”

I flicked the plastic spout at Damyon’s legs. He jerked as a spray of gasoline dotted his clothes.

“I promised Stormy I’d put an end to this.” I flicked another splatter of gas at him. “And that’s what I’m going to do because I keep my word.” Dip and flick. “And remember, you have her to thank for that. If it were up to me, I’d have drawn out your punishment to make up for every time you laid a finger on her. Burn off each of those worthless tattoos one at a time then let you watch as I chopped off that pathetic dick of yours.” More splatter. “The possibilities truly were limitless.”

I stood, this time allowing a small trickle of gas to pour over his head. “But Stormy is more important than you’ll ever be. She’s pregnant with my child, after all.”

Point. Set. Match.

I knew what it was to be obsessed. I knew how Damyon thought—the intensity of his emotions. Nothing in the world would hurt him more than knowing the woman he desired had been claimed by another man. I’d been anxiously awaiting the moment I would unveil those words, and fuck if it wasn’t glorious.

The asshole roared and raged against his bindings, a vein bulging from his forehead.

I grinned and picked up the box of matches.

“There are consequences to all our actions, Mr. Karpova.” I struck a match and watched it flare to life before flicking it at him.

The match extinguished as it tumbled down his shirt, then fell to the floor innocuously.

Damyon’s chest heaved up and down with ragged exertion, his vengeful stare locked on me.

“Consequences keep us accountable,” I continued coolly.

The scraping strike of another match filled the room.

I tossed the tiny scrap of wood in his direction. The straining man tried to lunge at me. The match dropped to the floor and extinguished like the previous one.

“You have a lot to answer for.”

Scrape.

Flick.

Fire.

Damyon jerked as the tiny flame took its first breath, then fizzled out.

“Tell the devil hello for me.”

Scrape.

Flick.

Flame.

The match found its mark and whooshed to life.

His eyes widened as realization began to set in. This fire wasn’t going out.