The Disciples: A Dark Romance Collection

by Sweet, Izzy

  I have to bite my tongue to keep from blurting out ‘thank god’.

  Eyes wide with fear, Asad starts to struggle against his bonds. Does he know what’s to come? Or is he just afraid in general?

  Simon rummages around in the drawer and withdraws a knife with a long straight blade.

  “Cut his clothes off, James,” he orders, extending the knife out.

  James grumbles as he walks around the table. Grabbing the knife from Simon, I hear him mutter something about always getting the shit jobs.

  Simon bends down and yanks the doors on the tool box open as James starts to slice through Asad’s clothing.

  “What are you looking for, Simon?” Matthew asks with mild interest.

  “The blow torch,” Simon answers coolly and my heart drops to the floor.

  Matthew makes a face. It would be hilarious if this situation wasn’t so horrific. “Please, spare us the blow torch. It took us months to air the smell of Marshall out.”

  Marshall? Who the fuck is Marshall? No, scratch that. I don’t want to know.

  Simon sighs and shuts the doors on the tool box. “Very well.”

  Straightening, he reaches into the top drawer again and withdraws a knife with a curved blade.

  With a wicked gleam in his eyes, Simon lifts the blade in the air and turns towards Asad. “Without heat, this is going to hurt a hell of a lot more.”

  It feels like it takes James an eternity to cut Asad’s clothing off and I find myself praying that he’ll both never finish and hurry up. I can’t decide if I want to continue to prolong this or just get it over with.

  Once the last bit of fabric falls away, James steps back and Simon’s eyes roam over Asad’s naked body.

  If I didn’t hate his fucking guts, I’d probably feel some pity for Asad. Without his clothing, all his small, shriveled dangling bits are exposed to the world.

  Some men look stronger, more beastly when they’re naked, like Simon. While others look softer and weaker.

  Looming over Asad, Simon looks like a fucking lion about to devour a pale hippo.

  “James, I’m going to need you to hold his head still for me.”

  With some more muttering and grumbling, James moves to the head of the table and grabs Asad by the sides of his head.

  Asad bucks and thrashes again, and James’s jaw clenches as he uses the brute strength in his arms to hold him still.

  Simon bends over Asad’s body and my view is obstructed, but I can see his arm moving in short, sharp motions.

  Asad starts to groan and cry out behind his gag.

  When Simon finally pulls away, there’s so much blood pouring down Asad’s face I can’t tell what the hell he did to him.

  “Okay, James, you can let go now,” Simon says and lowers the blade.

  “Thank fuck,” James says and leans back. Reaching up, he wipes the sweat off his brow with the back of his arm.

  Simon turns away, sets his bloody knife on top of the tool box and turns back just in time to catch James taking a step back.

  “I’m not done with you yet, James,” Simon sneers.

  “Fuck. What do you want me to do now?”

  Simon grabs Asad by the cheeks and says, “I want you to very carefully slide your fingers under the incisions I created around his hairline and pull.”

  “What?” James asks as if he doesn’t understand.

  “Slide your fingers carefully under the fucking incisions and pull,” Simon snaps.

  “I don’t have any fucking gloves on,” James protests.

  “Well, you should have fucking thought of that,” Simon says, his smirk curving into a malicious grin. “And it’s too late to stop now.”

  James shakes his head in disbelief and glances towards Matthew.

  Matthew makes a motion with his hand. “Go on, James. Do as Simon says.”

  “This is punishment, isn’t it?” James asks as he looks back to Simon and reluctantly leans over Asad’s head. “You’re fucking punishing me for talking to your woman.”

  “Perhaps,” Simon says, flashing his teeth.

  “Fuck,” James curses then that curse turns into a groan. My stomach flips as James works his fingers under a long cut on Asad’s forehead. “I can feel his fucking brains.”

  “That’s his skull, you idiot,” Simon hisses.

  James wiggles his fingers under Asad’s skin and the visual has me jumping up from my chair.

  “Meredith,” Matthew says in a chiding tone as he turns towards me. “Sit back down.”

  “Whatever,” James huffs. “Now what do you want me to do?”

  “Fucking pull,” Simon growls.

  I watch in horror, unable to look away for precious seconds, as James begins to pull on Asad’s skin, peeling it back from his face and revealing a bloody skull.

  Slapping my hand over my mouth, I try to rush past Matthew but he grabs me by the arm and spins me around.

  “Too much?” he asks with a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

  I swallow back the bile burning in my throat and somehow manage to choke out, “Too much.”

  “Princess?” I hear Simon say, his voice worried, but I don’t dare glance toward him.

  “She’ll be fine,” Matthew says to him. “Continue.”

  “I can’t, Matthew… Please…” I groan as he guides me back to the chair.

  “You can,” Matthew assures me. Using his foot, he nudges the chair around until it faces the wall then helps me sit back down.

  “Please,” I beg, reaching out and grabbing the front of his shirt. Clinging to him as he squats down beside me.

  “You can do this, Meredith,” he repeats, looking into my eyes. He reaches up and strokes my hair back. “Next to my wife, you’re the strongest woman I know.”

  That little compliment makes me feel better. I always enjoy a little stroke to my ego now and then.

  Taking a few deep breaths, I try to get the churning in my stomach to die down.

  Then I hear Simon snap, “Be careful.”

  “Fuck,” James snaps back. “He won’t stop squirming, give me a break.”

  Asad’s muffled screams grow louder and louder, and I can only imagine what they’re doing to him.

  My stomach lurches again.

  “Fine, I can do it,” I groan, my fists tightening in Matthew’s shirt. “But I don’t want to do it. I’m pregnant, have a mild concussion, and I’m going to get fucking sick.”

  If he doesn’t do something about this, I’m going to aim my fucking puke at him.

  Matthew lets out a long, drawn out sigh. He glances over my head and then back to me again.

  “You want me to put a stop to this?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I immediately hiss back.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” I repeat impatiently. Isn’t that what I’ve been asking all along?

  His hand lowers to his waist and his fingers brush across the top of his gun. “Okay. I’ll deal with Simon…”

  Wait. What?

  My fingers tighten in his shirt as he tries to rise. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to put a bullet in Asad’s head,” Matthew says with annoyance.

  I start to relax and my fingers begin to let go.

  “Then I’m going to put one in Simon’s.”

  “No,” I gasp, yanking on his shirt. “Don’t you fucking dare…”

  I don’t even have to think twice about it. I swear, if he lays one hand on my man I’ll rip him apart.

  “Don’t I dare what?” Matthew asks, one brow arching while a smirk threatens to spread across his lips. “The only way to put an end to this, to stop Simon from protecting his family, is by killing him. Isn’t that what you want, Meredith?”

  “No,” I growl at him.

  “Good,” Matthew says and he begins to relax, allowing the smirk to finally takeover his mouth.

  God, is there no end to this craziness? How much more can I endure?

  “I would h
ate to have to kill my best friend…”

  I narrow my eyes and shoot him a dirty look. Knowing what I know now, I honestly think he’s being serious.

  “You’d do it, too, wouldn’t you?” I accuse.

  Matthew looks me dead in the eyes as he answers seriously. “Yes, Meredith, I would.”

  Fuck. I don’t know if I want to hate him for threatening Simon or love him because he’d kill his best friend for me.

  I settle on accepting a little of both.

  Shaking my head, I take a deep breath and lean back in my chair. Trying to reconcile all the shit that’s in my head while I tune all the stuff going on behind me out.

  “How are you holding up, princess?” Simon calls out to me suddenly, pulling me out of my thoughts.

  How am I holding up?

  “I’ve been better,” I answer back.

  “Not much longer, I promise,” he says.

  I sigh wearily. How fucking long does it take to torture a man to death? Shit. Did I really just think that?

  “Does he treat you well?” Matthew asks quietly.

  I glance up at him in surprise. Does Simon treat me well? What a tricky question. It was rough in the beginning, yes, but now that’s he completely enamored with me things have been going rather well.

  “Yes,” I answer tentatively. “The only complaint I have is that I’d like to get out more…

  Once again, Matthew’s brow quirks up, and there’s something about that brow that makes me feel like I need to add, just in case he gets any ideas, “I’m sure once this… message is sent though, it won’t be a problem.”

  Matthew nods his head and says, “I’ll speak with him. Tell him to bring you around the compound more.”

  I smile at him. “Thank you.”

  “Evelyn has been asking about you. And I’m sure you’d like to get to know your nephews better.”

  My heart swells a little at the thought of spending more time with my family.

  My family… I have a family. Well, I’ve always had a family. I guess it’s only real now that I’ve forgiven Matthew.

  I answer him honestly, “I would.”

  Matthew nods his head and we fall back into a comfortable silence again.

  A couple of minutes later there’s a loud squelching noise and James starts to gag. “Fuck, I didn’t know a cock could do that.”

  “Stop fucking whining and put it in the box,” Simon sighs.

  Despite Simon’s promise that it will be over soon, it feels like I stare at the wall for eternity. Thinking of everything we’ve gone through. Thinking of what he’s doing right now to protect me…

  Then I blink my eyes and he’s suddenly there, grabbing my hand and pulling me up.

  “Is it done?” I ask.

  Relief floods through me now that he’s standing in front of me.

  Simon nods his head. “It’s done. Fucker is going back to his father in pieces to show no one fucks with the woman I love.”

  Love.

  That word slams into me so hard I nearly fall on my ass.

  Did he mean to say it? Searching his face, I don’t think he did.

  But now that he has, I’m not going to let him take it back. No, I’m never going to let him forget he said it.

  Fuck. To be loved by this man…. To be the beginning and end of his craziness… To drive him to do such dark, twisted things for me… for us… for our baby…

  It fills me with a purpose no game in my past ever has.

  After everything I’ve been through today. After having my world broken, my sense of identity shattered over and over again. Reliving the nightmare…

  I just want to drown and sink and choke on this emotion.

  I want to die. To let the old Meredith go.

  And be reborn again.

  “I love you,” I say and press my body up against his body.

  He welcomes me despite the pain he must be experiencing. He can never resist me. He’d probably hold me and kiss me even if he was in the cold arms of death.

  “I fucking love you,” I repeat and smash my lips against his lips.

  And I do. I love this crazy man. I’ve killed for him and he’s killed for me. Now that we’ve come this far, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.

  “After what I’ve learned today, Simon, I do hope you’re planning on making an honest woman out of my sister,” Matthew says as I finally pull back.

  Simon grins at him. “I already have.”

  I gasp at his lie, especially because it’s such an obvious one. “You have not.”

  His eyes gleam at me. “What do you think all those papers you signed were, princess?”

  Matthew laughs. “Taking a page out of my book, Simon? Well done.”

  The realization of what Simon did sinks in. He tricked me into marrying him? Seriously?

  I take back everything I said earlier.

  I’m going to kill him.

  Epilogue

  Simon

  It’s been two weeks since the firefight at Landow Airstrip and my ribs still ache every fucking time I move.

  Everything is painful.

  Driving down these shitty roads, my two fucking cracked ribs make my life a living hell.

  Every single bump in the road hurts. Stop lights offer no relief.

  If I wasn’t such a stubborn ass of a man, I would have had Andrew or Johnathan come and do this job for me. In truth, I should have made Lucifer come wait outside of a supermax prison in the cold.

  Should have made him stand here, on the side of the road, like some reprobate as he waits for his hellhound to get out of its cage.

  No, I’m the stubborn jackass who left the woman of his life behind at Lucifer’s compound. It’s the only place I feel that she will be safe, besides at my side. But even I know better than to bring her here with me for this job.

  This job. It’s a job, isn’t it? It’s a choice we’re all making to bring hell back into the world. Opening a gate that, in my opinion, should have been left shut.

  Shifting on my feet, I lean against the vehicle. Not that it gives me much comfort. Comfort. I haven’t known comfort for some time now. I’m unable to find a position to stand, sit, or lie down in that isn’t miserable.

  The only time I feel any sense of normalcy right now is when I have my cock locked tightly inside of Meredith.

  Meredith, let me count the minutes until I am back home with you. You safely nestled away in our house where it is sterile and clean. Not filthy like the sides of my Escalade.

  Rolling my left shoulder for the third time in as many minutes, my stomach grumbles for food. I haven’t been eating as well as I should have this past week.

  Too much work to be done and not enough time to do it.

  The Yakuza haven’t made any more brazen attacks and the message we sent back to the Saudi’s has been received.

  Or at least I hope it has been received.

  Because if they even dare try to stick their noses back into my personal life again and come near Meredith, there won’t be a rock in the whole damn country they will be able to hide under.

  I’ll fucking have the President of the United fucking States nuke the country back to the fucking stone age.

  Without fanfare or warning, I watch as the gate to the prison slowly opens itself. A man wearing khaki pants and a khaki button down work shirt appears in front of the entrance, walking next to a prison guard.

  The man in tan clothing looks to me then back to the guard. There’s a shake of hands and then the free man is walking towards me down the entrance road to the prison.

  He’s my size except he’s put on weight since I last saw him. All muscle, from what I can tell. His hair and beard are in a serious need of grooming. Right now he looks like a copy of Johnathan that has been stretched out with muscles and tattoos.

  Disgusting.

  I can only guess how many bacterial infections he has crawling around on him. I’m going to have to thoroughly sanitize my SUV after I drop him o
ff at the compound.

  Sanitizing might not be enough though… I might just set it on fire.

  Turning away from him before he even gets across the road, I open my door and slowly pull myself into the warm leather seats. Making sure the seat warmer for the car is turned all the way up, I lean back and let out a huge breath.

  Thankfully the heat gives me some comfort. Not much, especially while the vehicle is moving, but it’s better than nothing.

  Looking out my window, I watch as the hellhound smirks at me through the windshield.

  Cocky asshole.

  Up closer now, I can definitely tell he’s gained muscle mass, and probably a pound of new tattoo ink in his skin. None on the face though. I guess that’s saying something.

  The door to the car swings open and then slams shut as he crams his large frame into the seat. I probably should have adjusted it for him from when Meredith was in that seat. She prefers to sit a little further up and closer to the dashboard.

  It’s a petty thing to enjoy, but I do. One must find joys where one can.

  Reaching down to the side of the seat, I watch as the big blonde-haired, blue-eyed man grumbles as the seat slowly slides back.

  “Simon,” he grunts out at me.

  “Gabriel,” I say as I turn from him.

  I noticed tattoos crawling up past the collar of his prison release clothing. He’s wearing a white thermal undershirt under his tan top, and I have no doubt it’s covering up tattoos from his shoulders to his wrists. Sleeved, as Johnathan calls it.

  Not saying anything else, I put the SUV in drive and pull onto the road, heading downstate back towards Garden city.

  Glancing over briefly, I watch as he stares out the window. It’s the first time he’s seen the world like this in over ten years. A lot has changed in that time—the family, the politics, the internet even.

  He’s a relic that should have stayed in the damn past.

  Fifteen miles down the road in the middle of nowhere, I pull onto the side of the road again.

  Now’s as good as time as any.

  Putting the SUV in park, I reach into my suit and pull the .45 pistol from my under-the-arm holster.

  Pointing the gun at his chest, I say, “Get out.”