There Is No Devil Sinners Duet Book 2 By Sophie Lark-pdfread

Cole appears in the camera frame, striding forward, dressed in an outfit
unlike anything I’ve seen him wear before—a plaid shirt and jeans, with a
baseball cap. In his hand, a pair of bolt cutters.
The punishment is swift. He snips off Randall’s thumb.
Randall howls and howls, animalistic screams of pain that buzz with
distortion in the shitty speakers of my laptop.
I jerk in my seat, instantly breaking out in a sweat, my heart racing at a
gallop.
“Jesus! Fuck!” I cry.
I don’t know what I expected to see, but I’ve never witnessed anything so
graphic. Every cell in my body screams at me to turn away, but my eyes are
locked on the screen with sick intensity, my hands clamped over my mouth.
Cold and pitiless, Cole orders, “Kneel on those marbles. Your time isn’t up.”
I look up at Cole, the real Cole, standing beside me.
He’s watching the screen with exactly the same expression as before, hands
clasped loosely in front of him.
I can’t believe those are the same hands that wielded those bolt cutters just …
just how long ago, exactly?
“When did you do this?” I whisper.
“Last night. While you were asleep,” he replies.
My mouth falls open. I understand now why he booked that morning show
for me—it seemed to come out of nowhere, but I’m sure he pulled the strings
behind the scenes.
“Was Randall in Burbank?”
“Close by.” Cole nods.
I’m pulled back to the screen by a fresh round of cursing and screaming from
Randall. He was only able to hobble back into position for a moment before
falling over again. This time he loses his left thumb.