“Fuck you!” The kid spits at me. I laugh and pull the fucking trigger twice, just for good measure.
“I'm done with this game. Line 'em up!” Men. They scream and beg more than women do. Have they no pride? No self-respect?
This is no fair fight; I know that, and I bore so easily. It's been so long since I was the ring, the cage where I'd beat the living shit out of any man who dared get in there with me. I retired before Jessica was born, but I'll tell you something, I miss the adrenaline rush it used to bring me. If I could be bothered, I'd drag one of these motherfuckers up and force him to fight me, but what's the point? None of them would stand a damn chance against a former champion cage fighter, an undefeated one at that. There's no fun if they can't fight back.
It's over in seconds. Every man dead, and Paul Simpson saw the whole damn thing. The show isn't over just yet; there are a couple of things left for that motherfucker to witness. He's going to see the deaths of every fucking member of his fucked up family. Must be agony for him right now, there's nowhere for him to look, but at that screen, I've made damn sure of that.
I make my way to his room, my brother, cousin, and my men following. I feel like a King right now. I roll both my shoulders and my neck, letting them crack before shaking out my arms before entering the room where both Paul and his mother are being held. She's on one side of the room tied to a chair, him on the other in the same position. My men have done a real number on him. He looks like he's been through hell. There's plenty more to come.
“Did you both enjoy the show?” I mock. God, I love this part.
“You killed my husband, my children, and grandchildren!”
“You're right, old woman, I did, but you,” With my hands on my knees, I bend down to her level, making sure she keeps her eyes on me. “You attacked my pregnant wife like a coward. You tried to harm my unborn son's! And now you're going to die for it, but not before you watch every last child in your family die first.”
“No! Not the babies, please!”
“Did you think that when you were jabbing Marnie with that needle? Did you think about that when you sat in your little house hoping my sons were slowly dying inside of their mother?!”
“I hope they are dead, and I hope that dago loving bitch is as well!” The venom in her voice, the sneer on her face, there isn't an ounce of remorse in this bitch.
She leans forward in her seat as much as she can. “The little dago bitch she had in secret, the one she was with that day in town,” She smirks. “She won't last much longer. I wouldn't worry about the mongol; she's never gonna have much of a life anyway. However, the other one?” She laughs again.
Every ounce of blood in my body just ran cold. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
She laughs sadistically, and all I want to do is smash her old haggard face in! She wants to play games? So be it.
“You know, right about know,” I make a point of looking at my wristwatch. “They should be falling into the last sleep they'll ever know.”
“What do you mean?” Her eyes follow my finger to the TV screen.
This was the vilest part of my plan. It's one thing to kill women; it's quite another to off seven innocent children, the youngest just a year old, the oldest the same age as my Lydia and Amber. I can't even imagine what it would do to me if I were the one in Paul Simpson's position right now. To even contemplate the idea of anything happening to Lydia and Amber turns my fucking stomach.
However, I have to do what I have to do. It doesn't matter what I put these two sick fucks through now, slow torture – not that Paul can take much more of that – or a quick death, my goal was for them to die knowing their actions killed every last member of their family.
I don't watch the screen. I can't watch those kids fall to sleep — a sleep they'll never wake up from. I'm with Tank on that.
The old hags cries and screams are deafening to the whole room. Paul's eyes lock on mine. He’s seen every member of his family put down like dogs. It's nothing more than he deserves.
“You monster!” I turn my heel, hands in my pockets and look at Paul's mother; she's a mess of tears and unleashed sobs. I cock my head to the side. Is this the part where I'm supposed to feel bad for what I've done? “How could you?!”
“Why don't you ask yourself the same question, old woman? How could you?!” I holler back.
“You're gonna be sorry for what you've done here, Draven Vidal.” I very much doubt it. “You think you're so smart, but you know nothing. You're gonna lose everything you love, and you can't even see it's already happening before your very eyes.”
I silence my phone for the umpteenth time since I walked into this house. I have no idea who's trying to call me, but it can wait. It will have to. It won't be my sister; she knows not to call me when I'm busy. If I don't answer on the first ring, wait until I call you back. She knows this.
“You kill mine, and I'll kill yours.” That evil smirk on her damn face, I've had enough! I rip my gun from my belt and point it right at her. “She's slowly dying, has been since the day I injected her stupid mother.” Lydia!
“What the fuck did you do?”
“She's messing with you, Boss!” Lorenzo shouts.
“Don't let her inside your head.” Tony's right, she's fucking with my head. Bitches always do. “End her so we can finish him. Your wife needs you; your children need you, Boss.”
“Draven,” I look at Hammer. “She doesn't deserve your attention. She is nothing. Shut it down.”
I smirk and turn back to old woman Simpson. “Remember, old woman,” I hold my gun steady, pointing it at her shoulder. I'm not shooting to kill. “Draven Vidal killed you.”
“And you remember Julia Simpson killed your wife and all four children.” My finger hits the trigger, the bullet hits her shoulder, through and through. She screams to the heavens.
I turn to Jimmy. “Send down the cage.” He trips the switch that sends down the human-sized cage, trapping the old bitch inside. “Release the wolves.”
My brother's eyes widen, and I smirk in his direction. Shooting the old bitch to kill would have been too easy. Jimmy cranks the lever, revealing a small door that opens up just behind the cage, and out walk two huge wolves. Not the ideal pet for any person. They're not exactly pets; Jimmy found them roaming around a few months ago, drugged them, and brought them to me. They would have been shot and killed for fun if Jimmy hadn't saved them. I've taken care of them as any decent human being would. Strangely, they're loyal to me, but their natural instinct is to kill, and right now, that’s exactly what they're going to do.
The fear in the old bags eyes is like a drug filling my veins! “Oh my god!” Is all she gets out of her mouth before those snarling, growling wolves her apart. All a wild animal needs are the smell of blood and fear, and you're a goner.
I watch, not able to tear my eyes away as flesh and bone flies through the air around the cage. The wolves, whom I named Greydon and Zeke, rip through Julia Simpson's stomach, gorging on her innards, and I get some sense of satisfaction. This bitch paid for what she did to my wife and sons.
Let this be a warning to anyone who thinks they can come for my family, hurt my wife and children, and think they can get away with it. No one will ever get away with so much as looking at Marnie the wrong way.
I feel a sense of pride fill me as I watch those majestic animals tear the skin from the dead woman's face. It's not until I hear Tank ask Hammer when I'm going to snap out of my trance that I actually do. I look at Jimmy. “Get them out of there.” The man looks at me, and I can tell he's inwardly groaning. Prick doesn't want the wolves to turn on him. I personally couldn't give a shit!
I look at Tony and nod my head, silently telling him to drop the huge curtains that will cover the cage and the old bitch. She's dead, but her words ring in my ears.
‘She's slowly dying.’
She's fucking with your head, Draven. There is nothing wrong with Lydia. She's safe and sound at Brooke's.
My phone goes off again, and I'm all for throwing it against the fucking wall! I just want this night to be over. I want this over. I need to get to Brooke's. I need to make sure Lydia's all right. I know she's fine, but hearing that old hag say those things has shaken me up inside. If anything happened to her, it would kill me. It would kill Marnie, too, even more than me. Then there's the boys and the fact they're not one hundred percent yet.
“You've taken... my whole family.” Paul gasps out. I'm not sure the fuckers lung aren't punctured. Killing him slowly. Nice. “You destroyed my mother.” And made him watch. “You're gonna kill me,” Damn right I am. “So there's fuck all to lose. My mother,”
“You're mother what?” Tony pushes his gun under Paul's chin, lifting it to his eye level. “Well?”
“She did something to that kid.”
“What? What did she do?” There's an urgency to my voice. I need to know!
“Tell my brother what your fucked up mother did!” Hammer yells.
Paul keeps his eyes on me. “Why should I tell you? You took my wife. You killed everyone I ever loved. You're gonna kill me.”
“You're damn right I am! However, there are worse things than death; believe me.”
He shrugs.
So be it.
I drop my jacket from my shoulders and roll up my shirt sleeves. This should be fun.
* * *
I don't know how long I've now been beating Paul, over and fucking over. There's not much left of him, but I won't let him die until he answers me.
I snap my fingers at Giorgio, and he hands me the liquid-filled syringe. I bite off the cap and jab it right in the fuckers heart. He gasps a huge breath, head right back before groaning and dropping his head forward.
Adrenaline is a powerful thing when you know how to use it the right way.
“Now, why don't you tell me exactly what your psychotic mother did to my daughter.”
“They're really your kids?” I can hear the wheeze in his voice as he speaks. Broken ribs, fucked lungs. Painful as fuck.
“They're really my kids. We were only waiting for their mother to come home to us.”
He snorts and shakes his head, the head he can hardly hold up. We can fix that for him. Jimmy grabs the front of his hair and pulls his head up. Good, I like to look into the eyes of a man before I kill him.
“It's fucking sick that I had to marry her. She didn't belong to me.” He says more to himself than to me. “I didn't know... about the kid's... about you. Didn't tell me... He lied. I'm sorry.” He all but whispers to himself. I don't know whom he's saying sorry to, and I don't really give a fuck. I just want to know... “Poison. The kid is slowly being poisoned.”
Fuck!
“How? Tell me, fucker!”
He shakes his head, eyes rolling, and my fucking phone is going off yet again! I rip the knife from my belt and slash the motherfucker across the forehead. Blood gushes into his eyes and down his nose and into his mouth. Cutting the forehead won't kill a man right away, but he'll bleed out and probably die slowly. Must hurt like hell feeling so weak, losing all that blood and not being able to fight your way to safety.
“Tell me what you know, and I'll put you out of your misery.”
“I... don't know... didn't say.”
This is getting me nowhere! I grab his face, slapping his cheek over and over. “Wake up, motherfucker!” I know this is as good as useless, the man's fading before my eyes. I grab his face in my fist and squeeze. “I know she told you. Tell me what she did to my daughter.”
“Bear.” Is all he says over and over. What the fuck does that even mean?
Goddammit!
I pull away from Paul and snatch my phone out of my pocket. The constant ringing is driving me insane! I'm fucking busy cleaning house here! It's my own damn fault; I should've turned it off. The only reason I didn't was in case the hospital called.
Fuck! I'm a stupid fuck, what if they've been trying to call me all this time?
“What?!” I yell down the phone at whoever is on the other end of the line.
“Draven,” The voice, Brooke's, is a scared crack of a hitch. “Where are you?”
“Busy with trash. Why?” I twirl the knife in my hand, watching the shine of the metal and my reflection within it. My brother smirks at me. He knows I'm an evil fucker, and he likes it.
“I've been calling for hours. God, Draven,” The tone of her voice is startling to me.
“What it is, Brooke?” My eyes dart to Paul. The sinking feeling in my stomach is all consuming. I have a horrible feeling this is about Lydia. My heart is beating right out of my fucking chest cavity!
“It's Lydia.” My eyes close. Fuck! “She's so ill, Draven. She's burning up and asking for you. Please, whatever you're doing, stop and come home. Nothing is more important than this.”
She's right, there is nothing more important than my family, isn't that why I did all of this? I have to get to Lydia. I have to make sure she's okay. Fuck, I need to get her to the hospital, I need her checked over. If what these fucks have told me is true, my daughter has been ingesting poison for three fucking weeks!
“I'm on my way.” I shove my phone in my pocket, pull out my gun, pop every damn cap in that gun inside Paul Simpson, and tell my men, “Clean this mess up. You know what to do.” Lorenzo nods. “Tony. Get me to Brooke's as fast as you can.” Like right now!
“Boss.”
“What's going on, Dray?”
I shake my head at Hammer. “Something's wrong with Lydia. I have to go to her.”
“I know you're worried, but you can't go to her looking like this.” I look down at myself and sigh. I have splatters of blood all over me, Paul's blood, no to mention gunpowder residue.
“Here,” I narrow my eyes and take the bag Tank handed me. “You didn't think I'd come unprepared, did you?” He chuckles. “Go to the bathroom and get changed. I had Jimmy grab one of your suits and bring it here.” I clasp his shoulder in thanks and leave the room to get changed.
I always have a change of clothes with me in the car. Not that I'd point it out to Tank, the man thought he was doing a good thing.
I'm cleaned up and changed in less than ten minutes. My need to get to my daughter outweighed the need for anything else.
I'm coming, baby girl. Daddy is coming. Please be all right. Please, God, keep her safe. Keep them all safe.
Chapter Thirty-One
Marnie
I feel numb. My room is dark but for a dim light above my bed. I can't feel my body, I feel like I'm strapped down, but I'm not. I know I'm not because I can see that I'm not. I'm also alone. Why am I alone? Where's Draven?
I lift my head. Well, slightly because I can't move very well. I groan. I can feel pain coursing through my whole body. What the hell happened to me? I remember sitting on my bed and my little girl calling Jett to come over, but there's nothing after that.
The door opens, and a young nurse walks in. She's halfway to the bed when she notices me awake. “Mrs. Vidal, you're awake!” Way to state the obvious. “I'm just going to get the doctor.” She's gone before I can ask her what I'm doing here.
The next hour is spent with a doctor prodding and poking me, asking me questions that I don't know the answers to. I try to answer him as best I can, but my throat feels so dry my lips keep sticking together.
All I want is Draven. I need him to tell me what the hell happened! I know the doctor told me that someone injected me with something that caused me to give birth early, that I have twin boys who are in the NICU. Yeah, that killed me, I haven't stopped crying since, but I can't make sense of any of it. No one injected me with anything. I would have remembered something like that!
Maybe my brain has shut it all out. Perhaps someone did hurt me, and I just can't remember it happening. I just don't know!
What about my litt
le girl's? Where are they?
Why am I alone?
I've been here for three weeks, the doctor said. My twin boys – yeah, that will take some getting used to – are three weeks old already. I've missed three weeks of their lives! The doctor also said that I'd fallen into a deep coma and they couldn't figure out why when there was nothing wrong that would force me into such a thing. He said it as if I'd know the damn answer. How the hell would I know why it happened, I'm not a fucking neurosurgeon!
He did say that it will take a while for me to be up and about as normal because my muscles haven't been getting the workout they need, which means I'll need to strengthen them. That means it's going to be painful for a while. I can handle it though, whatever it takes to get back to being me.
“Where's my husband?” I force out because I can't speak without a croak in my voice.
“We've called him. He'll be here very soon.”
I nod and close my eyes. I just want to see him; I need him to explain all of this to me. I need him to tell me that my babies are okay, all four of them.
Four. Twin girls, and Twin boys. How did we not know there were two in there? What are their names? Okay, Luka. We decided on Luka if we had a boy, but what name has Draven given our other son?
My mind drifts on the side of sleepiness. I'm not going to be able to stay awake much longer. How is it normal to fall asleep when you've slept for three weeks? However, I do fall asleep. While there, I dream about my children. I dream about taking them home and loving them like only I can.
I hope Draven told the boys about me. I hope he told them that I love them because I do, so very much.
God, my head is banging, even in sleep, it's banging. It's like my mind is trying to tell me something, but what?
Then it all comes back to me like a bolt of lighting to my brain, that day in town with Lydia and Amber. Paul's mother bumped into me, and I scratched my arm on the buckle on her bag. Lydia dropped her bear, Paul's mother picked it up and held it for a moment, making a big thing of getting a tissue out of her bag and wiping the bears stomach, 'I'll get the dirt, don't worry,' There was a smirk on her face as mine contorted in anger. I didn't want her near my baby girl.
Vidal!: Snakes Henchmen MC Page 30