“Ahhhh!” he screamed again, his good hand with the bad shoulder now holding the bloody one.
“Don’t you wish you hadn’t raped my wife?”
Shaking in agony, he sneered, “I loved fucking her—Ahhh!”
I stared at the Y I had just carved into his chest, right through his dark robe. “Mrs. Young doesn’t appreciate your tone.”
Pain had him wincing and breathless. “Wh-What happened t-to you?”
A grizzly chuckle erupted from my uncarved chest. “Is it not clear?” After climbing further up his body, to now sit on his chest and hold his arms down with my bent legs, I sliced my new initials in his forehead: HS. “You made this saint hostile.”
“W-What?”
I sat up straight, hearing my dog in a fight. “Ah! The next one is ready!” I shrugged down at the boy about to die. “It is time for me to go, which means—”
“No!” yelled Jake, right before I sliced his throat, blood splattering to my face.
War paint.
Back on my feet, I did my body roll warm-up, preparing for a gruesome kill. Then, feeling completely off-kilter, I skipped toward screams. “I’m coming, Charlie Boy.”
With teeth rips in his robe, I found Crow up a tree, trying to shoo my dog away by throwing little broken branches at him. Of course, it didn’t work.
With a sharp, bloody blade in my grip, I crossed my arms and peered up. “Crow, how’s it going? Ready for torture?”
Screaming, “Fuck you!” spit and fear flew through the air.
I smiled up at him. “I think I am going to gut you.” I nodded. “Yes, that sounds very entertaining.” Glancing at my dog, I asked, “What do you think, Charlie? Oh no,” I wiped under his snout, “you have some of Jarod’s skin sticking to your chin.”
The pitifully hopeless cry from up in the tree lent freedom to my tainted spirit.
I sang out, “Crow, come on down.”
“No! You’re fucking insane—”
Bang went my gun. I looked at the hole now in the tree. “Oh, darn, I am very new at this gun thing.” I aimed farther up. “Let’s try again.”
Crow was a trapped animal, trying to climb higher. “Stop it!”
I closed one eye, hoping it would help my aim. “Now, why would I do that?” Bang!
“Fuck!”
I perked up. “I got ya?” I aimed again. “How about that! Closing one eye actually helps.” Bang!
A body fell from the tree with a delicious thud… I didn’t even know where I’d hit him, nor did I care. He was still alive; therefore, I was able to get to gutting.
With a foot on each side of his paralyzed body, I stated, “Huh, Karma is truly a bitch, ain’t she? You’re in shock, unable to move, unable to defend yourself, just like my Pretty Girl.” I squatted over him and whispered, “Just like I was when you raped her.”
Having sudden memories of him sliding in and out of my wife, with her blond hair moving in the dirt as he moved… true anger finally found me.
With hideous slowness, I slid my knife down his brown cloak, exposing his chest and stomach.
Tears slid from his eyes…
“She cried, too.” My blade filleted his stomach open. “So many tears caused by you.”
Deep groans, coming from his heaving chest, told me he was in extreme pain.
“Her tears are acid drops on my heart. Burning away empathy. Burning away any sympathy I should have… for you. Now, you must pay for every drop you made her spill.”
As I cut through muscle and pulled out his organs, I laid them on his chest so he could watch himself die.
In horror, he stared at the innards now on his chest, while I whispered, “See her beautiful face as you descend into the darkness you prayed to. Know she will still be here, alive and thriving. Know my father’s death was not in vain. You, and all who made you, are going down.”
As Crow choked on fright, blood, and the mistakes he had made against me, I walked away, counting his final breaths.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Balancing Vengeance
Ying and yang; dark and light, finding mystic harmony.
Whether or not I was becoming a sinister man or a one-percenter was still to be revealed. The one who once rallied so many assaults now lay waiting for his reaper. What would his reaper reap?
“Oh, Daaaaaamien,” I sang out in a manner that announced I was still siding with the black heart that had been awakened in me.
How far would I go?
All the way, for Lacey.
Prowling back toward where I had left Damien, I wasn’t completely surprised to see Diesel waiting for me. I asked, “Have you been around to watch the show?”
Not frightened by my recent actions, he was leaning against a tree, smoking a cigarette. “You still with us, Pup?”
Blood and innards dripped from my fingers and knife as I stalked past him. “Has yet to be determined. I’ll let you know after one more kill.”
Petting Charlie, Diesel mentioned, “I got a grey-eyed bastard who’s a little concerned with what he just saw.”
The camera… Now walking backward, I pulled it from my vest and tossed it to Diesel. “Here. Now he don’t have to watch.”
Picking flesh off the little item, he grumbled, “Fucking teenagers.”
Turning back around without stopping my stride, I said, “The teenager in me is long gone, Prez.”
“That’s what I’m a little worried about.” He and Charlie followed me. “This, uh, ‘new you’ is a bit, er, unsettling.”
I admired the blood on his clothing and challenged, “You didn’t take a life tonight?”
Still walking, he peered over his shoulder to see the aftermath, even though we were already too far away. “I didn’t treat his guts like Play-Doh, kid.”
Searching for Damien, I sneered, “I take it Lynx is worried my modifications are showing their ugly side?”
“He’s not the only one, Pup. You’ve gone from ‘Sweet Saint’ to ‘Holy Fuck, Batman’ in about three minutes flat.”
“I don’t know what you mean by ‘bat man’ but—” I finally spotted a pool of blood, which made my mind splinter with more desire for revenge clashing with gruesome memories. “But I can tell you I’m very angry right now.”
He mumbled, “No shit.”
After examining the puddle, I followed the red trail Damien had left behind, attempting to drag himself away. “They hurt me, hurt my wife.”
Diesel, the twisted sonofabitch himself, actually had the balls to chuckle. “Something they are presently regretting, I assure you.”
“They murdered my father.”
“Hey, I ain’t pro-life with these fucks, trust me, but I am a wee bit concerned with your, er, technique.”
I leaned down and swiped at the trail I was following, like a hound dog. Holding up four red fingers, I asked, “Did you know, these four terrorists found my wife’s menstrual cycle to be like taking her virginity all over again?”
Diesel cringed, trying to avoid looking at my hand. “The fuck?”
“Exactly.” I stalked the trail. “Not only did she suffer from normal cramps, but they raped her during that time, every fucking month—Ah! There you are, you soon-to-be-dead motherfucker.”
Damien started to army crawl with every bit of the waning energy he had left.
Easily catching up to him, I slammed my boot down on his back, so he would stop pathetically slithering for an escape that was never fucking going to happen. As his chest slammed to the ground, I casually told Diesel, “And this one,” I dug my heel in his back, making it hard for him to breathe with the pain, “was the very first of them to rip her open with his cock.” Daring Diesel to argue with me, I stared at him. “I believe she was twelve when it first happened. Surely, that doesn’t take any DNA modifying to make me find that fucking repulsive? Or be hungry for his blood?”
In full surrender, Diesel shook his head. “You win.” He saluted Damien. “Nice not knowin’ ya. Good luck with
this one-way ticket to ‘You’re Fucked Land’.”
As Diesel backed away, wincing from knowing what was coming—and preferring to not have this front row seat—I added, “Want to hear about how all four of the rapists started taking her on a regular basis? Not giving her poor body a chance to recover before the next one climbed on top?”
Diesel kept retreating. “Not one bit, kid. Hack off his dick.” Then, he faded into more darkness of trees.
“Want to hear about the eggplant?”
“The fuck?” He disappeared, his voice echoing, “Make him scream, Pup.”
I knew then that the few examples of the torture we suffered at these monsters’ hands were enough for Diesel to understand how this dark side of me was well deserved and necessary to truly avenge my Pretty Girl and keep them from hurting anyone else, ever.
“T-Tate,” cried a shaky voice from below. “L-Listen to me.”
I squatted next to my number one enemy. “Did you listen to her as she screamed for you to stop?”
He peered up, fear and tears in his eyes. “I-I should’ve. You’re right.”
So disappointed, I exhaled. “I truly expected more of a fight from you, hence leaving you for last. But it seems that without your demented pals, you’re a useless fucking coward.”
Tears dripping to the ground, he begged, “P-Please. I d-don’t want to die.”
I tapped his nose. “Good to know. That’s gonna make all this even better. Ringleader.”
Waves of rage seared my conscience into chard coals as more memories floated to the surface, all wanting to share in this piece of much-deserved revenge.
Hatred had my hand trembling as I grabbed the top of his blondish hair. “I was tied to a chair as I watched you butcher her perfect hair.”
Damien screamed, his arms flailing around his head, desperately trying to stop my knife from sawing off chunks of his hair. Far too close to his scalp, I could feel his skin give under the force of my sharp blade.
After tossing bloody clumps of hair aside, his arms wrapped around his bleeding head. “Tate!”
Enjoying his torment more than any sane man should, I explained, “I had to watch you drag my sweet girl behind a fucking car until she finally passed out.” I suddenly roared, “YOU SICK FUCK!”
Slipping deeper into dark corners most don’t want to admit exist in their mind, I madly stabbed at his wrists, feeling his skull stop my knife with every strike.
Damien whaled out his agony. “Stop! Stop!”
Losing any shred of control I had left, I sneered, “That is something I begged for as I was forced to watch you rape her.” Damien arched and screamed as I viciously carved a Y through his cloak and into his back. “You marked her as if she weren’t a living being.”
I rolled him over and screamed in his face. “You electrocuted her–as a child! You sliced her!” I held up my scarred palm that was drenched in blood. “You burned her!” Dropping my knife, I covered his mouth and nose with my palms and exuded all the pressure I could. “You suffocated her to the point of passing out while you raped her!”
Damien writhed as I smothered him.
“Over and over again! All in one sitting!”
He choked, gasping for air after I released his face.
I smiled. “Can’t have you dying yet. So much more fun to have.”
“I-I’m sorry! Sorry!”
My fists beat on my chest as if I were an enraged gorilla. “Yes! You are!”
I yelled in his face, “So! Fucking! Sorry!” while I retrieved my blade.
My right eye twitched as I stared at it. “A great man taught me I had power with this. That I could have power over you.” The muscle in my cheek shook with my craze. “Let’s see if he was right.”
Damien’s blood flew everywhere as his hands, unable to work properly from me stabbing his wrists, tried to push my knife away as it sunk into his side.
The way it penetrated, so deep, told me organs had been hit, which made my eyes roll back into my head. So, I repeated his words I had heard so many times before, “You’re right, brother, this does feel soooo good.”
Damien was howling, but he didn’t sound like the formidable wolves I’d come to admire and love. He sounded like a squealing, dying hyena.
“Know this, Damien,” I pulled out the knife while whispering the next part, “you didn’t break her.” I sunk the blade into one of the only dry spots left on his cloak. “And, as you can see and feel,” I twisted the knife, “you didn’t break me, either.” I yanked out the soaked weapon. “Even when you thought you had killed me.” Damien’s eyes were wide with shock and alarm as I held the knife above him, only to maliciously lower it and carve HS on his chest. “You failed.”
What came next? I think he was screaming, but I no longer heard him. My mind had shut out every pitiful cry as I stabbed his groin and his testicles… over and over, making sure his dick would never be functional again, not that I had any intention of letting him live.
Just like he tormented my life, I tormented his last minutes. “As I steal your blood and watch it leak from your pathetic body, I’m giving my wife strength,” stab, “revenge,” stab, “honor,” stab, “and the power to outlive your burning soul.” Stab! Stab! “May every scream you forced from her haunt your eternity in Hell.”
Releasing all my fury on the last demon I needed to face, I must’ve blacked out…
As I came to, I found myself on my feet, covered in blood, stumbling backward, staring at the massacred body that now resembled a trough of ground beef.
My hands were empty. My blade in his eye socket.
I was gasping for air and for the balance these triumphant deaths had given me. That balance offered the foundation that my kinder self desperately needed in order to return to my body. I felt shocked over my actions, but no part of me had regret. I simply lacked the will to find regret. These criminals had to fall… permanently. Hostile Saint made that happen.
Charlie’s growl was my first inclination that this night wasn’t over.
“So, it was you who was truly the strongest.”
A man’s voice was the second.
I spun around to face him.
By the way he walked and confidently presented himself, I understood this man was higher up in SAIL. That’s why I didn’t ask who he was. He already seemed to know who I was, so I didn’t offer one more bit of intel for him to gather. My Captain had given an order, If anyone tries to pump you for info, without an officer monitoring the conversation, do not talk.
This man may have been a part of what I was, but I didn’t want him to be a part of what I had become. Saint was only for Lacey, wolves, and my Stallions.
Besides, I had Charlie to do all the talking that was needed.
Grrrrrr…
The man stopped approaching, gesturing to my dog as he pushed back his hood. “Your friend doesn’t seem to like me.”
I wanted to say, He’s a great judge of character, but kept Justice’s words closer and studied my robed enemy instead. There were no weapons in his hands, yet he stood there as if he had all the control of this situation. That was unnerving. I was missing something.
The grey-haired man asked, “Mind if we chat?”
I mind that you’re breathing, asshole.
“What is your friend’s name?”
Dickhead.
“I know you have the ability to speak, Tate Young.”
Say nothing.
Lifting his hands, the cloth on his arms swayed. “Okay. Okay. I’ll do the talking.”
Lucky me.
“How much do you remember of your mother?”
Fuck. You.
“I’m only curious because you weren’t born under our care.”
This is what you consider ‘care’?
“Supervision is normal procedure with certain subjects.”
There was a strong urge to ask what ‘subject’ meant because I wanted to know what I was, but I was no fool. Lynx had warned me at the hotel that
I could be outwitted by street smarts since I had none. The man in front of me clearly had more life experiences than me. I wasn’t going to give him any more power by saying the wrong thing.
I had no idea how long I had been out while murdering Damien, nor whether or not Diesel was nearby. I needed to self-preserve so I could eventually make it back to my girl.
The man said, “We were concerned your early years of receiving love and compassion had made you weak. You’d lacked the drive to dominate and control. Definitely lacked the need for revenge.”
I thought of Lynx telling me I lacked the drive for revenge. Lynx made it sound honorable. This man made that character of mine sound weak.
Not that either mattered now. A trail of blood led to me.
He continued, “My Lord knows I’ve given you ample reasons to react, but you always refused.” He gazed at the body on the ground behind me. “Until now.” His dark and inquisitive eyes met mine. “What changed in you?”
Lynx. His name is Lynx.
“You’ve now killed. Before, you were the annoying boy always trying to rescue the children.” He exhaled. “Just like your father, trying to save your mother.” His expression showed my father’s noble actions to be merely bothersome. “The only good that came out of that was learning about you.” He sighed. “Imagine that. Your mother, my special project, out in the world having babies.”
Babies?
“Your brother didn’t survive.” He winked. “A shame.” Elated, he explained, “That’s why I was so intrigued with you! You did!” He smiled as if dreaming of a bright future. Then his smile faded. “I tried to save you by having these,” he gestured to the dead body, “subjects torture you slightly, hoping to spur a fight in you. But nothing.” He shook his head. “Such a disappointment. Giving up on your potential, I somewhat forgot about you. I never received any reports of you improving. Then,” he rolled his eyes, “you found your even weaker companion.”
Companion?
Keeping his distance from a growling Charlie, he paced side to side. “Lacey ended up being so pointless I easily traded her for her mother’s services. Although, that soon complicated things with her father—a once-loyal employee.” He shrugged. “Meh. Neither here nor there. Back to you.” He placed his hands on his hips. “When you discovered Lacey again,” he pointed at me as if somewhat proud, “I really thought things were about to change for the better.” His hands flew into the air as if giving up. “But no! You went and fell in love!” He spoke as if debating whether or not to vomit in disgust. “In and out of her window like the damn experimental chimpanzee you are.”
Hostile Saint (Steel Stallions MC Book 1) Page 31