chapter 12

Gannon For two days, I listen to his screams until they finally cut out. Liam, his face contorted with a mixture of disappointment and frustration, lets out a deep sigh and pouts, his words dripping with sadistic delight, “Pussy! I wanted to feed him his own bowels first.” His eyes narrow as he gazes down at Doyle’s limbless body. “Perhaps you should have considered the consequences before you heartlessly ripped out his beating organ.” I point accusingly at Liam’s hand, still clutching Doyle’s lifeless heart. A flicker of realization crosses his face as he glances down at the heart in his hand. “Oh, yeah, that would have done it,” he says, tossing it over his shoulder. My skin itches from all the blood caked on it. The thick, congealed substance clung to me like a grotesque second skin. Thick like gravy. Surprisingly, he had endured far longer than I had anticipated. If it weren’t for the blood bags Liam had procured, he would have perished long ago when we mercilessly severed his arms