Vincent's POV

Book shopping, holding an umbrella for her, getting her a new phone?! What was happening to me? Yesterday, I did my absolute best to be an asshole to Hannah but everytime it came to do it, I did the sweetest things known to mankind. A shiver ran through my body. There was no room for any sort of emotional involvement in our arrangement.

The pain that has shot through her eyes when I refused her hug had sent nails to my heart. I couldn't bear spending another second with her after what we did. She was too sweet for me. I would taint her or worse, I feared she would make me rethink my decisions. Sadly, she was already doing so without even trying.

My phone buzzed on the dashboard and its white light flickered on Ahmed's face. I borrowed him from James so I could enact what I had planned to do tonight. He sat with a taut expression and a gas mask on his face. The buzz continued and I picked the call.

"What's the situation?" James asked.

The car was still ahead. "Still tailing him."

"An intersection is coming. If he takes the right, you'll have enough time to jump him."

"Alright."

And as expected, in the dark highway that was being lit up with the headlights of cars, Lance took a turn, entering a road that had forests siding both ends. I smiled. It was perfect. 

"Scanning vehicle," James said, a beep sounding on the speaker. "There's a gun at the cup holder area. Be careful."

In situations like these, I was always meticulous. When it came to Hannah, I couldn't afford any mistakes. Lance was in the picture and needed to be taken care of. Hitting the gas, I sped down the road, the g-force hitting my face. Reaching a sharp corner, I dipped a side of the car on the rough terrains of the forest, dusts spewing up to the window siding Ahmed. With this manoeuvre, I overtook Lance and a sharp screech tore through the air.

From the side mirror, I spotted him, hopping out with his gun, ready for combat. Shooting him was a good option. But I didn't want any bullet's in Esther's meal. She loved them fresh and untouched. I tossed out a gas bomb, a thick white mist enveloping the area. It had sedative properties. Fixing my nose mask, I hopped out of the car with Ahmed. 

The booming sounds of gunshots ripped in the air, the yellowish-red flares from the gun appearing occasionally. He was scared, shooting frantically. That was how I loved it. Fear death, but accept it. Reaching him, I knocked the gun out of his hand. I wore a glove so my DNA wouldn't be imprinted on the weapon. He dropped to the floor, muttering gibberish. I joined Ahmed and we both lifted him, settling him in the boot of my car.

"You have two minutes to get out of there," James said over the phone. "I've managed to stall the police by blocking out their communication. But it won't take long for them to override my command."

I started the engine and soon we were out, the sound of sirens echoing filtering out the further we went. By the time I had reached home, it was raining. Dragging the wet body, I entered the mansion and James joined us at the lobby, dressed in my white robe, a cup of whiskey in his hand. The bloke always found a way to make himself as comfortable as possible in my house. He took—make yourself at home—way too literally 

"That looks heavy," he said, gesturing at the body Ahmed and I carried. Because of the rain, the 7 foot man weighed twice his size despite two people carrying him. I could swear he was heavier than the world Atlas had to hold for punishment.

I groaned. "Shut up and help."

"Oh, no. It's your body to butcher. Besides, I've done my part."

"Cunt."

"A beautiful one."

I ignored James and approached Esther's home. It was a replica of her habitat, green grass, two trees and a pond she mostly stayed in. The paradise was surrounded by four glass walls which were bullet proof and clear. She rose from the water, her cold dark eyes watching me. Slowly, she walked out, water dripping over her scaly-dark green body.

"Sleep well, Esther?" I asked, walking past her home. 

She followed me, her steps deadly and predatorial. To most people, they would think it was cynical to have a pet alligator. But I saw what most people didn't. She was seen as a monster, just the way I saw myself. And if I were to get some company, it had to be something that mirrored me.

A metallic door laid ahead and by its side was a combination lock. I pressed in the digits and we carried Lance into my butcher room. Well cut, full pork hung from the ceiling, the sour smell of old meat filling in the air. The room was lit by a single bulb in the middle.

The skimmed faces of my victims were positioned on the wall, each person having a tag and year under them. This was where I took their lives and it paid having them as a trophy to remember how good of a killer I was. No traces had been followed back to me, and I knew I couldn't have all the credit to myself. It couldn't have been possible without James cleaning whatever little specks may have been left.

In the middle of the room, a metal table laid, dried blood streaked like paint on its surface. Rounding it was a water bath where the victim's blood drained to and got flushed to the farm in my estate, giving my soil enough fertility. Settling Lance on the table, I locked him with the cuffs at the four corners, letting him lay spread-eagle. 

"You know, V, it'll be funny if after all this, you end things with her," James said, sitting on a stool. He sipped from his whiskey and smirked. "I mean, all this trouble for her? You claim it's strictly sexual but you took her book shopping and came back smiling like a fool."

"I wasn't smiling." Besides, I only did that because for our arrangement to work, she needed to be happy. 

"Oh, nah, man. You should've seen your face. Like a mashed tomato."

I gnashed my teeth and ripped out Lance's top, tossing it to a side. I didn't need to listen to James. He was fond of doing this; always trying to make me feel like there could be more to the women I was obsessed with it. No matter how he tried, we both knew there would be nothing different about this one. I knew with time, my craving for Hannah would fade off. My insides tightened at the thought, my heart squeezing hard.

Advancing to a drawer, I withdrew a vial of anaesthesia and collected some in a syringe. Tapping the needle to remove any excess air, I found Lance's cervical spine and injected him. His legs began jerking and soon, his eyes opened. He raised his head, eyes darting between everyone in the room.

"What the fuck?"

"Hello, Lance," I said, hands on hips. "I'm about to kill you."

James chuckled. "Vince, that's no way to tell someone about their death."

"Well I love going straight to the point."

"What the hell? The fuck? You have me tied?! Why am I tied up, man?! What the fuck am I doing here?!"

Placing my finger on the bridge of my nose, I tsked. "Questions, questions. So many questions, mate."

"Answer me you bitch!"

I pointed to the blade above him. "You do realize I could pull a lever and you would be gone?"

His eyes travelled to the ceiling and his breath hitched. I smiled. That's more like it. I wanted to see the fear in his eyes. It made it so worth it, draining his life mentally before I did anything physically. The taste of fear in his eyes would also make his appetizer a better meal for Esther. 

"Please, man," he begged, tears running down his eyes. "I just won a championship. My life's just getting started."

Sweat patched his forehead and I ran my hand over his sweaty dark face. "Shh. Do not fear. Death comes for us all. Accept it Lance and you'll make heaven."

"P-please."

I ran my hand through his hair. "Should I be honest? I have no sympathy for you."

"Why? Why are you doing this?"

"You made her cry twice, Lance. Big, big mistake. Now I'm going to have to kill you."

"Fuck, no, no please. Do you need money? Is it connections, I've got everything, man. Please just let me go. Whatever it is I'll—"

James laughed, forcing everyone to pause and look at him. He held his head back, still laughing before taking another swig from his whiskey.

"V, this shit never gets old."

"He thinks I need money, James," I smiled at Lance, combing my hand through his thick Afro hair. "Listen, my connection to her is way more than money. I want to devour her, conquer her, demolish her soul and make her see me as the only salvation she can ever get. I'm going to make your little sweetheart think what we have is healthy and I'm going to make her cry, lick her tears, but still obsess over her. That's it Lance, I love the drama, the depravity I can cause. I hate stability. Stability leads to love, Lance. Now we wouldn't want a monster to fall in love with sweet precious Hannah, would we?"

He gulped. "This is all about Hannah?"

"It has always been about her."

Taking a step back, I gave a nod to Ahmed who stood next to the guillotine lever. By now, the effects of the anesthesia had kicked in.

"Please, please, no, no, you can't."

I smirked. "Thanks for keeping her tight for me."

The blade fell off, slicing his head in one neat motion. I went to the bath it fell in and picked him by his hair, blood making splatting sounds as it pooled out of his neck. His eyes were wide open. Better, it would be easier to extract it. I settle his head on the table, watching blood splatter from his jugular vein. Approaching a switch, I turned it on and  lye rained softly on the body. If I wanted to cut his body easily, I would need to soften his tissues. 

"I'm guessing you want a drink, now," James suggested.

I nodded. "Let's go outside, I need some air."

***

Soft gentle breeze wrapped around me like a cocoon, easing my shoulders. This was my routine. Getting a nice relaxing night before venturing into the butcher house to cut bodies. The breeze helped me think, relaxing my nerves and making each decision easier to make. I leaned against a tree, watching the way, the grasses swayed back and forth, the silver rays of the moon spilling on them.

"Beautiful night, is it not?" James asked, joining me and handing a glass of whiskey. The smell of nicotine was in the air, his cigar between his fingers . He extended his poison to me. "Want some?"

I drank from my glass. "I don't smoke, James and you shouldn't as well. Bad for the lungs."

"Pretty ironic for someone who extracts lungs from the people he kills." He blew out clouds of smoke and drank whiskey. "We both know you don't give a shit about life."

"Like it or not, I actually do care about yours."

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "Awwn, such a sweetheart you are."

"Fuck you, James."

"Yeah, yeah, but come on, tell me," he started, watching the beautiful plains of my estate with me, "what's happening to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're getting soft, man. I gotta' tell you." He shrugged. "This is the first woman who has made you go bat shit crazy. You don't usually give long monologues like you did back there. Talking 'bout conquering her and shit like she's some kingdom. Most times, you just kill. But this woman, she seems to be sparking a visceral reaction from you. She makes you happy and you hate it, don't you?"

"Our arrangement makes me happy, not her."

I gulped. Why did he have to be such a pest? Was he trying to play matchmaker? Hannah and I would never work. I balled my fist. Beauty and the beast was a fairy tale story. No one would want a fucked up mess like me. I literally killed people and hung their carved out faces as a trophy. 

"You're scared, aren't you?"

I side glanced at my stupid friend. "I'm never afraid of anything."

"I'm giving you just a few more days. You'll be coming back, asking for another favour regarding her."

"Never."

"How much are you willing to bet?"

"A million dollars."

James held my deltoid and gave it a squeeze. "It's a deal."

A strong wind blew, flapping the robe he wore and then a daunting revelation hit me. This fucker! 

"You're not wearing any underwear, are you?"

"Nope."

"And that's my robe right?"

"Mhm."

"You're lucky you're on my no-kill list."