“Let me the fuck go, you fucking prick. You think I’m someone to mess with? Do you have any fucking idea who I am and who my family is?” His mouth is going to be stapled shut in point two seconds if he keeps running it, that I do know. I relay this to him, and he answers with a hyena laugh. I turn and clock the fucker in the mouth, all the while keeping my Mustang straight. Colorful words follow, but they’re no brighter than the blood pouring out with them. Pretty boy isn’t so pretty now. He’s going to experience a lot worse once I get back to my place. He laid his mouth and hands on my girl, and there’s consequences for silly mistakes like that. He woke up about five minutes into the drive. Two strips of fabric from his shirt are tied tightly across each stab wound on his abdomen. His hands and feet are hog-tied—there’s not a chance of him slipping free of those. I’ve had too much practice. He’s been running his mouth since the moment he awoke, and it’s been grinding my gears into dust. He throws out empty threats like bullets, but instead, they’re paper in the wind. None of them make an impact. In fact, they don’t land anywhere near me. It’s the mention of Addie that sends me into a murderous rage. “Come on, man. Are you this worked over a piece of ass? Her voice may be cut out for porn, and her pussy tight as fuck, but shit, you can find that in other bitches too. I’ve fucked plenty of them.” What was going to be a fairly slow death is now going to be the slowest death to ever happen since the dawn of humanity. It was bad enough that he spoke of my girl in such a disgusting manner, but then he went and topped it off by implying Addie isn’t anything special. She’s the first of her kind to exist, and there will never be another like her. I pull into the driveway leading into my warehouse. It’s a smaller structure, used to manufacture cameras for some shitty company that went out of business within five years. The building was foreclosed on, and I bought it for dirt cheap. And then spent hundreds of thousands of dollars transforming it into an impenetrable fortress. I converted the main floor into my living space with state-of-the-art security. An ant will not be able to find its way into the building without me knowing about it. The second floor is my workspace. Dozens of computers and illegal technology that make it possible to do what I do fill the space. And the basement is where I handle all of my business—meaning where I take the pedophiles to torture and kill them when they have information I need.