by Skyla Madi
More gasps.
More whispers.
“Weak?” He repeats.
And I nod.
Shadow tosses his head back and howls with laughter. The tops of his teeth are spotted with decay, others covered with little silver caps. Unexpectedly, he snaps toward the cage with a snarl. I yelp and stumble backward only to be caught by two strong arms.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Jai demands in a harsh whisper.
He squeezes me hard against his body and pulls me back a few feet. I don’t take my eyes from Shadow, who laughs and laughs at the fright he gave me. I glare at him as he pushes himself to his feet and positions himself behind Stefan’s back. With a creepy, wide-lipped smile he slides one long-fingered hand underneath Stefan’s chin and places the other on the top of his head.
I take the time to blink for a second longer than I should, and when I open my eyes, Shadow glances up at Skull who nods his head.
My heart breaks.
More tears fall.
Stefan struggles to make eye-contact, but when he finally does, he offers me the tiniest smile.
Then, with a loud, blood-curdling crack, he’s gone.
Dead.
And just like that…Stefan no longer exists.
My vision blurs and I hold my breath as my stare falls to the ground. Tears collect on the tips of my eyelashes and drip in slow-motion onto the ground. The room stays quiet—or at least I think it does. Shock has apprehended my body and my brain. I don’t think I’d even register if someone was screaming directly into my ear right now. I feel Jai, though. The warmth of his body exudes over me, wrapping me in a protective blanket. His dry lips plant sympathetic kisses on my face—my cheeks, my jaw, my lips, and my forehead, too. I hear the rumble of his voice echo through me like a train rolling slowly through a deserted station, but his words are unclear, muted by the trauma I just witnessed.
Then hands grab at me and my senses come back, smashing into me with the weight of a wrecking ball behind them. The noise comes first; the raucous cheering and screaming. It electrifies me back into a state of awareness. I lift my head and everything in my line of sight returns to a normal pace for a split second…before it escalates dramatically in the blink of an eye.
Thick, calloused fingers barely manage to brush the collar of my pale pink t-shirt before Jai snaps forward, his fist connecting with the man’s jaw. The sickening thump and the tiny drop of saliva on my arm is enough to make me shudder. Jai stands firm between the man and me, and as he cradles his bleeding mouth, still reeling in shock, I recognize him. Jim. He’s one of Skull’s main men and a man who’d almost backhanded me in the face.
Jai is ready for him, and I doubt that Jim has gone up against anyone as magnificent as Jai. His broad shoulders are squared and his fists tighten and release, clench and relax.
“Stop playing with Stone and grab the girl, will you?” Skull shouts from his ledge.
I look up in time to see him turn and enter his little doorway, and that’s when I feel harsh, aggressive hands curl around my biceps, squeezing firmly. Jai glances over his shoulder, his angered blue eyes zeroing in on the hands seizing me. His jaw clenches and relaxes periodically, as they wait for him to make his move. He drags his glare from my arms to my face and I subtly shake my head. Don’t risk it all for me. It’s not worth it.
It’s as if he reads my mind. His eyes soften, and his lips droop ever so slightly at the corners. When Skull’s men shove me forward, Jai lowers his head and lets them pass. As I pass Jim, he swipes a large, hairy arm over his mouth, collecting a dribble of blood. Behind me, I hear him spit a mouthful of it, and if that’s not enough to turn my stomach, the entrance to Skull’s little dungeon up ahead does the trick. For the second time tonight, my heart races, crashing into my ribs and spilling a poisonous fear into my organs. My legs threaten to lock up and my breath blows strong, while my lungs are barely keeping up.
“You’re in for a world of pain, bitch.”
* * * *
“Ugn!” I grunt.
Heat, fast and sharp, seers across my cheekbone as the dirty, concrete floor rushes up to meet me. I just manage to get my hands out in time to stop my face from merging with the cement. Tears well in my eyes. Broken pieces of stone and glass dig into the palms of my hands and shred my exposed knees. I clench my jaw, desperately willing myself not to cry. That’s what Skull wants and I won’t give it to him.
He crouches low, twisting his strong hands through my hair and clenching them into an angry fist. Pain sears over my scalp and I hiss through clenched teeth. Skull tugs on my hair, snapping my head back and forcing me to look directly into his face. His skull is disgusting.
He is disgusting.
From the pocket of his dark gray slacks, he produces a small, silver dagger and as he shoves it to my face, I see my pathetic reflection within it.
“You made me look weak, Kitten, and I don’t like looking weak.”
I rake my teeth over my bottom lip, doing anything I can to distract myself from the pulsating, rhythmic pain that slices across my cheek
“Stefan didn’t have to die.”
He frowns and the ‘bones’ of his tattoo crease as his forehead pinches together. “Who?”
As I open my mouth the door is kicked open and it slams against the wall. I hear heavy shoes and the unmistakable sound of something lifeless and stout being dragged across the concrete. My heart aches, bleeding into my ribs. His body enters my peripheral vision, feet first, and then he’s dumped less than six feet from me. His glazed eyes are barren, his skin seemingly fake. To think that he was alive not so long ago...I swallow hard and bring my stare back to Skull. It bothers me less.
Skull smirks and points to the broken man on the floor. “Oh, him? He’s a meth dealer. Forget about it.”
Forget about it, he says, like it’s no big deal. Stefan is a human being. He’s probably someone’s brother—someone’s father. Once upon a time he was a little baby boy that an adoring mother held to her breast.
“Dealer or not. He’s still a human being. You had no right to murder him. If he was such a bad person, you should’ve let the justice system deal with it.”
His smirk pulls wide, morphing into a black grin, and he withdraws his shiny dagger from my face and taps it on his lower lip. “The justice system?” He laughs once, untwisting my hair from his fingers with a shove my head. “You still don’t know?”
I frown. Know?
“The justice system is a ruse, Kitty-Kat. It’s a joke—a joke that keeps frightened people like you in line.”
“I disagree.”
“Oh really?” He stands up, rubbing his chin with his freaky tattooed hand, and beams at his goons. “This. Is. Gold.”
He turns back to me. “Fact: not even the people who uphold this so-called ‘justice’ system—let’s say, cops, for example—have faith in the system. All it takes is one teeny, tiny incident and they take matters into their own hands. They become a vigilante, of sorts.” He crouches low again, leaning in to my face. “Why, you ask? Because they. Don’t. Trust. The justice system. I could slaughter every single person down here and no community leader, politician, fucking cop, judge, or even the President of the United fucking States will give a shit, and you wanna know why?”
I swallow.
“Because everyone down here is a criminal. Well, everyone except you, but I’m not sweating it. No one knows you even exist.”
My throat constricts, making the next few words that fall from mouth sound thick and weak. “Why are you the way you are?”
His smiles falls, covering his perfect teeth.
“Where were you when you decided life isn’t precious?”
All traces of humor fade and his black eyes stay on mine. I don’t know how long we maintain eye contact, but he breaks it eventually to look over his shoulder.
“Get out.” He says to his employees.
My muscles tighten, the calm in his voice setting me on edge.
“Boss—”
“Get! Out!” He demands, pronouncing each word singularly, so they understand. I pick myself off the floor to sit back on my heels. While his men file from the small room, I touch the back of my hand to my cheek. No blood, but I bet it’ll bruise.
As the door clicks shut, locking me inside with the devil, my awareness flicks to high alert.
“There’s a story I like to tell...” he says, lifting his eyes. “About a young man and his beautiful pregnant wife walking along a desolate esplanade. I recall the serene, late afternoon, unrivalled by any other, like it was yesterday...”
I listen intently. Not knowing where the story is going or where it’ll end up.
“Up ahead, a man in a hood stalked toward them, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. The couple eyed him suspiciously as he approached, but they chose to keep walking toward him anyway. When they got within arm’s length, the hooded stranger stopped them with a flash of his palm...”
Engrossed, I find myself leaning toward Skull, trapped by every word he speaks. He talks with emotion, anger and sadness twisting so beautifully around each word. I didn’t think he was capable of such feelings.
“Without a word, the man withdrew a dagger from his pocket and drove it into the woman’s stomach and she collapsed to the ground with a gasp...”
I recoil, clenching my chest as my heart constricts.
“Why? Why would you do such a thing? The man screamed, cradling his precious, sobbing wife to his chest, covering himself in her blood. Her attacker smiled, wiping off his blade with his black hood and said; to witness a man cry at my hand...”
“Jesus Christ.” I gasp, grimacing. “You? You had a wife?”
He shakes his head and smirks. “I was the man wielding the knife. You see, some people turn evil because life fucks them over repeatedly, day after day, year after year, while others turn evil out of desperation and fear. But then there are people like me, people who are born evil, who don’t give two fucks who lives or dies.”
Emotion drains from my body. To be in the company of such a heartless, soulless human being... it’s too much. So I shut it off, withdrawing to a place he can’t hurt me. I worked in a hospital. I saw babies daily. Their chubby cheeks, little toes and balled fists...to hurt a baby is an evil not even the devil himself can commit.
“I don’t believe people are born evil. Whatever happened to ‘you might have been bad, but that woman and her baby didn’t deserve your anger.’ I’d call you a disgusting piece of shit, but that’d be an insult to pieces of shit everywhere.”
I want to ask him how far along the woman was, but it doesn’t matter. It won’t take away from the fact there’s no place on Earth, or in hell, bad enough for him. He watches me closely and I feel dirtier every second his stare lingers on my skin.
“I like you, Kitty-Cat.”
I grimace in disgust. “I despise you.”
“That has to be the sweetest thing a woman has ever said to me.” He grins. “Any news on Jai Stone?”
I repeat what Jai had told me. “He’s here for his brother and he’s not leaving without him.”
Skull scratches his head with the pointed top of his dagger. “I knew it. Sadly, Jai Stone is wasting his time.”
I fold my arms tightly across my chest. “Wasting his time? Jai knows Joel was here.”
Skull nods. “He was here. Now he’s not here.”
My warm blood bubbles, threatening to boil over any second. “Where is he now?”
He simpers, straightening his legs and tucking his dagger away.
“I suppose since I’m waiting for Jai to show his true colors, I’ll make a confession. Maybe that’ll push him to ‘co-cop-erate’, so to speak.”
I frown. I don’t get it. Does anything this psychopath says make any sense? He bends in half at the waist, lowering himself right into my face. The distinct, heavy smell of coffee blows up my nose.
“Joel Stone is dead,” Skull hisses through gritted teeth. “I killed him myself.”
No. Oh no. My innards knot, twisting together into intricate bows. A suffocating sensation lodges itself into my throat and I hunch. I can’t tell Jai that. He had panicked at the mere thought of his brother’s death. To learn the truth of it…it’ll destroy him.
“Jai will kill you,” I seethe.
“We’ll see. I’m curious to find out whose team he’s really on. He’d make a fine addition to my crew. If not...” He taps his tattooed nose and I’m forced to look at the inked cartilage. “Remember what I said. Vigilante.”
Lies
Jai
I don’t know how many times I’ve paced this stupid room since arriving here. One, two, three steps. Turn. One, two, three steps. Turn. I don’t know how many times I’ve worried myself sick just thinking about her. I rake my fingers through my hair and squeeze. Shit, Kitten. Why can’t you ever keep your mouth shut? Why do you have to be so damn headstrong?
Grains litter the floor and crunch under my shoe, a result of my tearing the boxing bag apart. My knuckles burn and my fingers ache, but it’s nothing compared to the worry painfully stretching out my chest. I should’ve fought all of Skull’s men. I should’ve destroyed them. I wish I had. I wish I hadn’t let them take her away. She could be dead...I stop pacing. My heart stops beating. What if she’s dead? I clench my fists.
Behind me, grains crunch. I square my shoulders and turn around. Her eyes are red rimmed and puffy, her hair snaky and wild. The pain in my chest lets itself out, like a pinhole in a balloon, making room for relief. She’s alive. That’s a start. I zero in on an angry, dark blotch high on her cheek bone. She notices and rubs the back of her fingers over it.
“It looks worse than it feels...” she mumbles, the tone of her voice not sitting well with me.
I hate that it’s there. I hate that I let it happen.
“Only you can take a beating and still look pretty,” I say, a lame attempt at humor.
What the fuck am I saying? She begins to smile, then catches it, but it wilts away, turning into a sympathetic frown. I step forward and her face pinches together, her lips trembling, as she tries not to cry.
I stop. “Emily? What is it?”
I address her as Emily. She likes it when I do that.
“Jai...” She drags a breath through her nose and drops her hand from her cheek. I try not to focus on the anger in the pit of my stomach when I see it again, and focus on the pain in her eyes instead.
“Skull...”
My stomach sinks. Tears well and spill faster than I’ve ever seen on a woman and trust me, I’ve been in the presence of a lot of crying women.
“He killed him,” She chokes out.
My brows draw together. “Killed who?”
Emily hiccups and inches closer with calculated caution. I don’t like it.
“I’m so sorry.”
With a swift leap, she closes the distance between us and wraps her slender arms around my waist, burying her face into my chest as I stare at the wall over her head. What the hell is going on?
“It’s Joel,” she sobs, her face muffled by the fabric of my shirt. “Skull killed him.”
Impossible. I don’t believe her for a second. Over and over she tells me she’s sorry, but I don’t feel anything. What am I supposed to feel?
I stare at the dirty floor, waiting for something to happen, waiting for her words to react with my emotions.
They don’t.
Minute after minute ticks by and I stand in silence. My bones ache and there’s a strange pressure on my ribcage, curling toward my vital organs. Physically I feel everything, but emotionally I feel nothing...because I don’t believe it. Thoughts and plans flood my brain and I can’t focus on any of them, there are too many. I don’t know where to begin.
Emily pats my back, an attempt to soothe me. I don’t need soothing. I don’t believe Skull killed Joel, not for a second.
“You think he’s telling the truth?” I ask and she pulls back to look up at m
y face.
Her swollen cheek grows darker by the second as a bruise forms underneath the skin. Before I rip Skull’s esophagus from his flesh, I’ll make him apologize for marking her face.
Kitten’s eyes flick between mine. I see the look on her face…the look of confusion. She’s judging me, and probably wondering why I’m not a sobbing mess right now. I bet she thinks I’m insane holding on to the belief that my brother is still alive, after a murderer confesses to killing him, but she hasn’t seen him. She doesn’t know him. Skull and his entire gang wouldn’t have been able to touch Joel. I’d bet my entire family’s fortune on it. Emily had cowered at the sight of Shadow, but Shadow is nothing. In comparison, my brother makes him look like a bitch.
“I think he’s crazy,” she sniffles.
“That’s not what I asked you.”
She nods, her eyes filling with sympathy. I hate sympathy. It’s an emotion people show when they think you’re not capable of handling things yourself. Fuck sympathy.
“Yes. I think he’s telling the truth.”
“Good.”
Her dark brown eyebrows, wilder now than they were when I met her, draw together and she pulls back even more. “What?”
Her pink lips press into a thin line and I plant a quick, dry kiss on them.
“Good,” I say. “Now I can show you why you should never take anything at face value.”
“Face value?” I push past her and she makes a small frustrated noise in the base of her throat. “Jai!”
I ignore her and stalk from the room in search of Marcus. Thankfully, she doesn’t follow.
As I march, I can’t help but let the frustration lurking in the pit of my stomach spread to the rest of my body. I’ve wasted almost two weeks down here thinking I’d run into Joel or pick up his trail. Surely someone who works for Skull knows where to find him? I’ve heard nothing...not even a whisper. That’s two wasted weeks I could have spent up top searching for him. I’ve searched all of the underground circuits, I climbed their ranks and mixed with criminals. Not once have I heard his name. It’s a good and bad sign. Good because that means he’s not dead. Bad because it also doesn’t mean he’s alive.