Killing them was never Liam's first option. Firstly, he made it a game of hearing them scream. One learned so much from the shrill, piercing scream of something so beautiful. Secondly, he wanted to know what made them weak, made them bend, made them crack, made them cry. The softness of their heart made it so much easier to slice through their tough exterior. Thirdly, he liked to watch them beg. The way their eyes looked into his, defenseless and pathetic - oh, yes - there was nothing like it. True, sometimes his plans never went according to such a list, but that didn't mean he didn't enjoy it. Liam always enjoyed it.
Always.
"The way Emery talks about you, I thought that was a given. But it's no matter, my dear." Liam twisted his hand around her hair and took a few steps away from the living room, bringing her along as if she was nothing but a piece of luggage and he, nothing but a man on his way to a leisurely vacation. "No, no matter... at all. Tell me," he stopped firmly. He felt something. Something he rarely ever felt in all the moments he held the reins. Liam's head jerked. His teeth clenched, his fingers tightening around Hannah's chunks of hair, and he released a low, breathy no.
Just as quickly as he turned his cheek, Liam was glowering back down at his prey. "Hannah, Hannah, Hannah - Tell me how you feel about my brother. And don't hold back." He moved the blade of his knife across her right collarbone. The edge grazed her flesh and sent a soft break of skin to the start of her shoulder, not nearly enough to make her bleed. Yet.