Page 92 of Semper
Her breath hitched, a sob breaking free as she tugged against the restraints. “No, no, no—.”
Ignoring her, I straightened and stepped back to watch as my friend stepped up beside me.
Her breathing quickened as he crouched beside her, his gloved hand reaching out to tilt her face upward. He had done this many times before, and to him, it was just another canvas to work on.
"Let’s begin," Phoenix said softly, his voice betraying none of the coldness behind his actions. His free hand traced along her skin, savoring the last untouched part of her before he started. Then, with a swift, precise motion, he made the first cut—clean and deliberate—just below her collarbone. Nicolette’s body convulsed, a scream tearing from her throat, an animalistic cry of pain.
Her head thrashed side to side, hair damp with sweat and tears, but Phoenix remained unfazed. His movements were precise, detached, as if he had already distanced himself from the carnage. He was turning her body into something far lessthan human, a twisted form that her father could use to redeem his family’s honor.
I stepped closer, watching as Phoenix moved down her arm.
He traced the curve of her bone beneath the skin, pressing the tip of the scalpel into her flesh. Nicolette screamed again, a high-pitched wail that echoed off the chamber walls. Her body jerked violently against the restraints, trying to pull away from the blade, but it was useless. The sound of her agony filled the room, but it didn’t faze any of us.
With a quick, deliberate motion, Phoenix dislocated her shoulder, the pop of bone snapping out of place causing her to scream louder, hoarse now, her voice nearly breaking. He continued his work, severing her arm with a few swift, deep strokes, cutting through muscle. The limb hit the ground with a dull thud, and her cries turned into gasping, ragged breaths, punctuated by sobs of pure agony.
"Please... please," she whimpered, barely coherent, her voice strangled by pain.
He shifted to her other arm, repeating the process with the same brutal efficiency. Each cut was deliberate, each motion perfectly executed. Blood soaked the floor beneath her, pooling in thick, dark puddles, Phoenix worked with clinical precision, knowing exactly how far he could push the human body without allowing it to give in to the sweet relief of unconsciousness or death.
He swiftly reached for a cauterizing tool—a compact, handheld device designed for just this purpose. The end glowed red-hot, and without hesitation, he pressed it to the exposed flesh where her limbs once were. A sickening sizzle filled the air, followed by the acrid scent of burning skin. Nicolette let out another agonized scream, her body jerking violently as the heat sealed the wounds.
Phoenix held the cauterizer in place long enough to stop the bleeding, ensuring that no major arteries were left open. Her skin bubbled and blackened beneath the device, but the blood stopped flowing.
"Don’t worry, Nicolette," Phoenix said, his voice unnervingly calm as he worked. "We wouldn’t want you to die too soon. You still have a purpose to serve."
He moved down to her legs, repeating the process with cold efficiency. Each cut was followed by the same cauterizing procedure, the searing heat closing the wounds as quickly as he opened them. He was methodical, ensuring she remained conscious and aware of every moment of her suffering. Her screams had turned to low, pitiful moans, her body trembling uncontrollably as she teetered on the edge of shock, but Phoenix kept her just this side of death.
He looked up briefly, his eyes meeting mine, his expression one of complete focus. "Almost done," he assured me, his tone almost bored.
The room smelled of charred flesh and blood, the metallic tang thick in the air, but the bleeding had stopped. Nicolette’s body was reduced to a grotesque, mutilated form—limbs gone, her torso a patchwork of burns and open wounds. And yet, she lived.
Emilio chuckled, shaking his head as Phoenix leaned over Nicolette’s limp form, the scalpel hovering near her eye. "I don’t mean to be that guy," he said, pausing dramatically and tilting his head, "but who’s sticking their dick in that after this?"
There was a beat of silence, and then our father spoke up. "I was wondering the same thing."
Corbin chimed in, grinning. "You never know. You could always leave her at the Pleasure House."
A chorus of "no’s" followed, punctuated by laughter. The thought was enough to break the grim atmosphere, a dark joke to lighten the brutality of the scene.
"I could do it," Phoenix voiced nonchalantly, never pausing his meticulous work. He pressed the scalpel delicately, popping out the first eye, blood mixing with the wetness of her tears as Nicolette’s muffled screams echoed through the room.
"No," Bishop told him flatly.
"You’ve got to havesomestandards, Nix," Jamison added.
"If you want someone to play with, choose a higher woman," Corbin agreed, still grinning. "At least someone with all their limbs attached."
I glanced around the room, the absurdity of the conversation not lost on me. "Could you imagine toting that through the front door?" I asked.
"Pandora may be blind, but she hasuncannysenses. She’d pick up on that faster than you could sayDiabolus."
Phoenix chuckled, not missing a beat as he continued, his gloved hand working with the same precision he always displayed. "Guess I’ll have to find something else to amuse myself with," he said, his tone light.
“If you put a bag over her head…” Bishop began.
“Don’t even think about it,” I cut him off.
Silence descended over the chamber as Phoenix continued his meticulous work. The only sound in the room was the low, rhythmic muttering from Phoenix about the flowers and clips he'd need for his next masterpiece—William. Unlike Nicolette, William wouldn’t be a one-day project. If that were the case, he would have gone first.