My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 348

Chapter 348

With his free hand, Raphael grabbed a glass jar full of pickled eggs from the display rack. He brought it down with absolute force straight onto the pervert’s right knee. The glass shattered into thousands of sharp pieces, The heavy liquid mixed with the blood on the floor, and the man let out a high-pitched scream as his kneebone split completely apart.

Raphael dropped the screaming man onto the wet, bloody floor. He stood over him, like he was just doing a simple chore. He picked up the pack of cigarettes. He pulled out a whole handful of them-at least six or seven-and stuffed them all into his own mouth. He grabbed the lighter, flicked the flame, and lit all the ends at once until they were glowing a bright, angry, scorching red.

He pulled the burning cigarettes from his lips, holding them bundled tightly together between his fingers like a thick torch of pure fire.

He knelt down, pressing his heavy combat boot directly onto the pervert’s chest, pinning him to the floor so he couldn’t move a single inch. The man wept, his hands shaking as he begged for mercy, his face a swollen, bloody

mess.

“Please,” the man choked out, blood bubbling from his lips, “Please, stop-”

Raphael didn’t say a single word. He leaned forward and drove the large bundle of glowing, red-hot cigarettes straight into the man’s left eye and cheek.

The sound was terrible. A loud hiss filled the convenience store as the extreme heat melted through the man’s skin, burning straight into his flesh. The horrible smell of burning hair and scorched skin filled the air. The pervert’s body went completely stiff, his back arching off the floor as a loud, screeching scream tore from his throat, a sound so full of pure agony it didn’t even sound human anymore. Raphael held the fire there, pressing it down harder, turning his hand slowly to make sure the heat destroyed everything beneath it.

Behind the counter, the clerk was trying to crawl away on his hands and knees, leaving a thick trail of dark blood on the linoleum.

Raphael stood up, tossing the crushed, bloody cigarette butts onto the floor. He walked over to the counter. He reached down and grabbed the clerk by his ankles, dragging him backward through his own blood until he was out in the open.

Raphael looked around the store, his eyes landing on a metal stool near the corner. He walked over, picked it up with one hand, and brought it back.

He raised the heavy metal stool high above his head. His muscles flexed beneath his tactical vest, his face perfectly still and calm as he looked down at the weeping, mangled clerk. And then, with everything he had, he brought the metal legs of the stool crashing down again and again, breaking bones and spilling blood until the store was completely silent.

Raphael stood in the middle of the blood and the broken glass, his chest rising and falling. He looked down at the two mangled men groaning on the floor. His face was still beautiful, but his eyes were completely empty, like two black holes that sucked in all the light in the room.

He turned around and walked over to the tall glass coolers against the wall. He opened the doors and began grabbing bottles of strong alcohol, bottles of heavy vodka, rubbing alcohol, and cheap whiskey. He brought them back to the center of the room, his boots making a wet, sticky sound as he stepped through the pools of blood.

He twisted the cap off the first big bottle of vodka. He tipped it upside down and poured the clear liquid straight onto the pervert’s burned, bleeding face. The high-volume alcohol sank deep into the open cigarette burns and

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the shattered skin of his nose.

The pervert let out a choked shriek, his whole body shaking and twitching in pure agony as the liquid set his open nerves on fire.

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