by Joy Blood
Defeated, I resign myself to getting her grave dug. Wanting her found, I don’t dig too deep. Maybe she will be found and her family could be put at ease, maybe she will miraculously wake and leave this place. Be happy in life. The last thought makes me sick because I know it won’t happen. She is gone and it’s my fault.
The shovel sinks into the ground only an inch, the dirt is cold and unmoving. It takes me hours to get the shallow grave dug out. When I place her in I make sure to cover her face with the tarp, not wanting dirt to mar or taint her beautiful face.
A last whispered ‘I’m sorry’ and I’m back in the truck driving to the compound. The thought of leaving now that I have no leverage to keep me tethered to Roman sinks in, but I push it away. Right then and there I decide that all of it needs to crumble. Roman and his empire. It will all come to an end. One way or a-fucking-nother.
Chapter Thirty-Five
AKA Lara
I watch as the recognition flashes across his face. He remembers me. Remembers what he did to me. How he killed me. “You got out,” he finally says, barely audible.
“Yeah. I. Got. Out,” I hiss through clenched teeth, my molars grinding together. “You strangled the life right out of me then tossed me in a shallow grave.” It starts slow, the smile that forms on his face, growing wide making my hatred bloom, but before I can lunge at him he speaks.
“I knew you were a fighter,” he breaths, a smile still firmly set with the relief that washes over his features.
“No thanks to you,” I spit, jolting from the floor, needing to put distance between us.
“I thought for sure I had killed you,” he tells me as if completely shocked I survived his wicked game. Almost as if in awe of me. “It worked so perfectly, even I thought you were dead.”
“What? What worked?”
“The pill,” he says as if that will explain everything. “I thought it killed you. It was only supposed to make you appear dead, but when I choked you—”
“You raped me!” I yell, my fists clenched together, nails digging into my hands. He has the audacity to look dejected as if I just told him there were no longer bullets in the world. “Nothing to say to that? Are you going to deny that when I was seventeen years old you—”
“No! Fuck.” His hands grip at his hair digging the strands nearly from his scalp. “Shit, this is so fucked.” He starts to walk the length of the cabin, murmuring something I can’t understand. Until I step closer and listen. That is when I realize I have heard it before. He is speaking Russian.
“Wraith,” I call out to him but he doesn't acknowledge, only keeps pacing. “Steven!” I get in his face stopping him from his walking rant forcing him to look at me this time, snapping him from his trance, using his given name.
“He gave you to me knowing I wouldn’t hurt you.” The man I have been living in the cramped cabin with has suddenly disappeared before my very eyes and is now replaced by a boy—a boy who was once living in the same place as I was.
“Roman?” His nod confirms my question. Roman, the man who came into my once happy home and killed my father then stole me away from my innocence, was owner to us both at one point in time.
“He didn’t miss anything. He knew he wouldn’t be able to control me sooner or later, so getting me attached to you was his only bargaining chip. And I played right into it. Before I knew it, I didn’t want anything to happen to you. I wanted to protect you and he knew it.” Holding still as a statue I stare up at him, listening to every word. “He told me you needed a purpose. If you weren’t mine you would have been given to the men—” His words put the missing pieces of the puzzle into place. “I didn’t…fucking hell. I didn’t want to take you like that.” His words leave his lips in a desperate plea for me to understand how fucked up this situation is, I find myself starting to. “You got out.” He repeats his words from earlier, leveling me with his gaze. So much hurt behind his lost eyes. Letting that hurt sink in, I try to push back the understanding that tries to seep into my veins, overriding my mission.
“No,” I shake my head, “you can’t just give me some sob story about how your boss told you to do what you did! You don’t get off that easy!” I slam my hands on his chest forcing him backward, making him stumble slightly.
“Lar—”
“Oh fuck no. My name doesn’t come out of your mouth. You don’t get that right. You have no rights!” I yell, losing control of my emotions. “You can’t,” I start to sob, the words coming out as a whisper as I find myself dropping to the floor. My knees hitting the hard, wooden surface with a thud before I crumble into a heap.
“You came here to kill me.” He breaks into my moment of weakness pulling my face to his. That broken boy trapped in a life no one should endure staring back at me. I can’t speak so I nod. “Do it.” His words cascade around me, making my heart involuntarily flutter. He steps back holding out his arms offering me his body to do as I please. “End it now. Be free from me.” The man I have dreamt of killing, wept over, cursed over, is standing in front of me, telling me to kill him, ready and knowing how he has wronged me.
This is what I came here for, what I have wanted for years. I want this man dead for hurting me in the worst possible way, then tossing me out like rubbish afterward. Gripping the discarded knife from the floor I slowly stand to my feet, forcing the wavering from my stance. I step closer to my target. Raising the weapon in my hand I bring the tip right to the base of his windpipe. With my heart in my throat, I straighten, square my shoulders, and look him over. His eyes are clear, ready for his sealed fate. The knife twists in my hand, unsure as it has ever been. I want this man dead, do I not?
That’s when I see it.
My reflection in the thick blade. The distorted picture of who I am. Someone consumed by the need to kill one man. A man who is now bowing to my mercy.
My hand, as if it has a mind of its own, pulls the knife away from his exposed neck and lets it clatter to the floor. My body, too weak to stand any longer, falls forward landing on his hard chest with my arms snaking around his frozen body. “I’m done killing,” I tell him, my face muffled in his chest. His body tenses like he can’t decide whether to push me away or embrace me back. My heart leaps in my chest when he chooses the latter. Tears prick the backs of my eyelids and I squeeze them together, trying not to let them fall. It’s finally over. My mission to destroy the man who destroyed me. The man who strangled me and left me for dead. My heart bursts, beating at a rapid rate and I feel as if it might fly right out of my ribcage.
Release.
Sweet release from the past that has been holding me captive for such a long time, longer than I can remember.
The moment is broken when he takes his arms from me, leaving me cold, and backs away. The boy still lingers, but Wraith has now reclaimed his features, the tall menacing man I remember hunting. The man whose Master was training me to kill. Suddenly the reality of our situation comes back to me. Master. He is still out there wanting to kill Wraith and probably me if I don’t go along with him. “He is still out there. We need to leave as soon as the storm breaks. Do you remember where you parked the sled?”
“Who the fuck is he? I think we have come to the part where you need to level with me.” His brows nit, frustrated with my lack of communication.
“I only called him Master. He and his men are the ones coming. He wants you dead and will take me down in the process. I’m sure of it.”
“Why you?”
“Because I went against his orders and came after you—alone.”
“He is the one who trained you?” I nod at his question deciding to omit any other information. “I hope he taught you how to shoot better that he can,” he scoffs, letting that smile of his bloom across his face once again. “Man is a piss poor aim. If I had been the one behind the trigger, I’d be dead right now.”
“Lucky for you, it was him and not me.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
She must have stared out the darkened window f
or three hours before dragging herself to the bed to fall asleep. I kept my ass in the chair. I may have put aside the deep-rooted feeling that the girl wants me dead but something still lingers there. How fucked is this situation? The realization that my little tiger is Lara. I’ve put many men in choke holds, knocked them out in three seconds flat. But having my hands around her neck, choking her, I thought for sure I went too far and killed her. “He wouldn’t just come walking through the door.” Her voice breaks into my tormented memories making me turn my gaze from the door over to her where she sits on the bed, now propped up on her elbow facing me.
“Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t have much else to do though now do I?”
“Guess not.”
“Get any sleep?”
“Not even a second.” She lets out a sigh and pushes herself further up on the mattress. The blanket slides down giving my eyes access to the top half of her body. The moon shining in along with the light from the small kerosene lamp, showcases her tits nicely. Even if they are covered in the unflattering bra and tee shirt she wears. I catch the moment she sees me ogling her chest and find myself for the first time feeling like an asshole for the act.
“I shouldn’t have done what I did. Even with the need to save your life. I could have gone about it so differently.” I find myself blurting out the words. Her sharp intake of breath fills the quiet cabin, piercing my ears. Shifting from my chair I find myself kneeling before her. “I tried to make it right but it wasn’t enough. Not even fucking close.” Her chest heaves up and down in heavy pants. I chance touching her hands, clasping them in mine. “Tell me.”
“Tell you?”
“Tell me what to do to try and make it up to you. Tell me how to wipe away our past. This shit life that was forced on the both of us.” My head bows onto the bed as if lying myself at her lap, at her mercy, but she gives me none. She pulls her hands from me, making my stomach plummet.
“When I find out, I will let you know. Until then, let’s just try to stay breathing.”
“Did I ruin you?” She spins on me, fury painted all over her features.
“Ha! You give yourself too much credit, Wraith.” She spits my name in a hiss. “Believe me, you might have done many things, but ruining me isn’t one of them.” Her body is off the bed in seconds, pacing the length of the confined room. “I can’t believe you!” Her hands toss up into the air. “Ruin me,” she mutters under her breath, keeping up the brisk steps to one end of the cabin then back. “Fucking unbelievable.”
“Listen, I only meant—”
“Oh no, I know what you meant. You think that since you took…since you…oh fuck!” she yells out in frustration. Her hands once again going into the air, only this time they stay as if she is praying to the havens above. Her face stares up at the log celling. I watch as her lips move and she speaks in a soft whisper, soft enough for me to not be able to hear what comes out. Approaching her at this moment would to be a complete violation of privacy if not a death wish. Willing to take the risk of her changing her mind on not wanting to kill me, I find myself walking toward her, towering over her small thin frame. I dare not touch her. Not without her permission, but close enough that when she lets her hands down and turns my way I feel the hot wisps of her breath ghosting my naked chest. “You’re too close,” she rasps, her body leaning backward as if she is going to step away but she doesn’t. My eyes widen as her slender fingers hesitantly reach out to touch my chest. Before I have a chance to feel her touch, she yanks them back as if I have burned her.
“It’s okay.” My voice barely makes it past my suddenly dry throat. Her gaze flicks from my chest to my face as if she is asking for visual conformation. I give her with a small nod and once more, like she is about to touch a venomous snake, she reaches out, connecting with my skin. The contact causes me to suck in a lung full of air through my nose, holding it, waiting to see what she will do next. What she does has my cock hardening to unbearable lengths. Her left-hand joins in with her right and they both glide along my chest through the smattering of hair between my pecks.
“You may have.” Her voice so soft I nearly miss it through the pulsing in my ears.
“I’m—”
“You weren’t bad.” Her words cut me off almost making me laugh.
“Well, thanks. I guess.” Her hand smacks me now, but continues dragging slow patterns along my bare flesh. Dropping dangerously low.
“I meant. You weren’t mean, back then. You didn’t hurt me like you could have. Like others would have. Like Trenton would have.” As if being punched in the gut my memory goes back to the day I killed that motherfucker.
“I killed him.” Her quick intake of breath lets me know she didn’t know what happened, “I overheard that he was planning on taking you from me. I wouldn’t let it happen.”
“What about Roman? I’ve heard the rumors. I know about the list, but how? How did you take them all down?”
“Now that, is a long story.”
She shakes her head and steps away from me, going to the bed to get comfortable. “Well, then I guess you better get to talking.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“If you would have come to me, I would have sent Wraith and we wouldn’t be in this fucking mess!” Roman yells at Rodney making the chubby little man shake in his overly tight suit.
“If the flash drive hadn’t been encrypted, I wouldn’t have had to hire someone to de-crypt it!” Rodney yells paling instantly as Roman stands from his chair. Even in his pudgy state the man still towers over Rodney.
“I encrypted it in case it fell into the wrong hands. How was I supposed to know you would fuck up and hire the wrong person to get your names?” I break in, defending my actions.
“Enough! What the problem here is that we no longer have the fucking list and it is somewhere out there, just floating in the wind. Waiting to be picked up by someone who knows how to crack it,” Roman barks out to the both of us, only I don’t care. His words don’t register. My name may be on that list but I don’t give a shit.
“The little fucker skipped town and I had their guy go after him. How was I supposed to know he would kill him before getting the stick?” Roman’s hand comes down hard onto the table.
“You. Call. Me!” he shouts, pulling his gun from beneath his desk, pointing it right at Rodney’s face. Instantly he starts begging for his life but Roman doesn’t listen. Instead he sends a bullet right through Rodney’s balding head, making his tubby carcass fall to the floor in a sickening slump. “Fuck!” Roman is still pissed, now getting from his chair to come around a give Rodney’s dead head a swift kick to his temple. The stench of blood and shit starts to fill the space of the stale office so I take my phone from my pocket to call for hands to lift tubby from the floor and dispose of him. “Did you wipe the computer clean?” Roman focuses back on me.
I nod. “Yes, as you instructed. There was only the one list.” Every fucking son of a bitch Roman ever shook hands with, every woman and child he sold, every dime he made. Right there on that flash drive. The only fucking copy.
“Fuck!” he yells again, kicking at Rodney’s body once more. “Get this trash out of here,” he growls before stomping out of the office leaving me with the dead, already stinking, body. I leave after that, too, knowing there are three men coming down to haul him away. I go downstairs to the one place I find to be the safest—the basement. I go to my cell and shut the door behind me, taking out the brick that holds my burner phone. There are no new messages but I didn’t expect to find anything, instead I run through the app and pull up the tracker I embedded into the file that was uploaded to the flash drive I gave to Rodney. The software is genius, every time the list is opened the location will pop up on the phone. Some high tech shit I know nothing about but paid a very hefty price for. Thank you, Doyle. Roman and the child rapists are going down, I just need to bide my time. Someone will open the list, and when that someone does, I will be there, ready to guide them down the right path. The one that
will send each and every prick dick straight to jail.
Little did I know that fucking list was going to cause a whole shit storm that wouldn’t start until years later. By then I was so deep into being Wraith that I could barely remember who I had been to start with.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Waking in a sea of blankets I take in a deep breath. The bedding no longer smells of her and I curse myself once again that she isn’t here. She had to get out. But killing her wasn’t in the plan. Shaking thoughts of Lara’s soft body under mine, I stand from the bed and ready myself for another day. My muscles pop as I lift my arms over my head, stretching the sleepless night from my back. Each day has blended into the next with the streak of blood tainting each one with greed and power. My greed and power. I have become the thing Roman molded me into. A killing machine and his second in command. The person who deals more in the business than he does. The business. Fuck this business. Even though I hardly take orders anymore doesn’t mean I’m free of this life. If anything, it has embeded me further into its hell.
Lara’s face haunts me every day. Smacking my hand against my cheek I quickly get dressed, why the haste I have no idea. Roman no longer lives at the compound. Like I said I’m his right-hand man. I’m the boss now. The black hearted fucker in charge.
Each day begins the same. A run through of inventory. Fucking inventory. As in Women. How many we have in the basement. How many are ready to be sold, and how many we need to dispose of. “One found a way to off herself last night, boss,” Georgie, my newest recruit says, handing me a clipboard detailing his report. The fucker is thorough, if only he would have strived to better himself in a different field.