![]() Power the likes of Rafael Ricci can’t even begin to imagine-which is why he has me.įinally, scrubbing a hand over his clean-shaven jaw, Rafe removes the glasses from his nose, and sits back in his leather chair, looking up at me. A kind of symmetry found in nature, where you’re given the opportunity to bring beasts to grisly fates or heal them instead. There’s something magical in the act of holding another’s life in your hands. Not in the same way as cutting into someone’s chest cavity, breaking and peeling back their ribcage, and severing their beating heart while the life bleeds from their eyes. ![]() Though, I suppose most men in our world wouldn’t take the time to research hit methodology they want quick fixes and dumped bodies, and they don’t care if their crimes can be traced, because they bankroll the local police, anyway.Īll they care about is maintaining their power. By the time he pushes the piece of paper in my direction, sets his mug down, and removes his glasses, I’ve imagined all the ways I could kill him.Īn overdose of insulin would be the easiest, cleanest route-especially since he keeps his meter and pens in the top right drawer of his desk, unprotected. The sound of his lips sucking in liquid grates on my nerves, a dull knife sawing at the frayed edges. ![]() ![]() Gritting my teeth until my jaw aches, I glare at my boss while he sips from a mug of steaming tea, watching the video playing on his computer. ![]()
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