The pungent smell of blood touched my nostrils, and I almost fucking laughed as the man under my boot trembled with his eyes wide as saucers ready to pop out any moment. I fed on his raw fear, the beast inside me roaring after months at the sight of blood.

I missed this. I fucking missed this power.

“Messy as always.” Nikolaev’s Russian voice fell upon my ears but I ignored him. Too occupied with the sight of blood.

I dug the knife deeper and watched the man scream. He writhed on the cold, hard, bloodied ground.

I clicked my tongue when the blood splattered all over my expensive beige...