God, that scream was lovely, the right notes of despair and disbelief, a renew burst of energy to the thrashing of the body beneath him as she tried in vain to do anything but watch in horror as her mudblood lover died before her eyes. One pure point of ecstasy for him as he emptied himself inside her and collapsed, needing a moment to recover.
And a moment was all he got. It had all apparently been too much for the bitch to handle. She'd gone limp with shock beneath him, no more delicious writhing or struggles to escape. Pushing up and off her with a sigh, Walden gathered his robe and surveyed the scene.
"Close enough," he said with a nod to Bella. Hefting the axe, taking a different kind of pleasure in the weight of it in his hands, he knelt by the woman's head. "Do they allow for last words of the condemned in your time, Lavender Brown?" The use of her name was deliberate, driving home the fact he knew exactly who she was, what she did, and had transformed her into nothing more or less than an evening's faceless entertainment. "Perhaps I can already guess your last wish."
Standing then, he swung the axe in a wide arch and brought it down on her neck, encountering no resistance and hewed through flesh and bone, leaving nothing but a severed head that might once have been lovely to fall with an almost negligent thud into the basket Bella had provided. Crossing to the bed, he used the light bedspread to carefully clean the blade of his axe, as a knight might have cleaned his sword after battle.
A flick of his wand and the chair was banished, her body tossed haphazardly across the floor like an animal's refuse, still bound in silver chains. "Shall we?" Closing his robe, he offered a gallant arm to Bellatrix as they made their way through the rest of the house collecting what they needed before returning to report to their Lord.