by Dani René
Outside, I find my men waiting. We make our way together toward the basement where I had Scarlett when she first arrived on the compound. Thinking about her has me glancing over my shoulder to find her at the bedroom window. Even from this distance, I can feel her anger.
I can’t help but tip my fingers in a mock salute as I descend the steps into the darkness where I find William, better known as Billy, to his friends. He’s bound to a chair, his mouth gagged with a thick cloth, but his eyes are wide as they take me in.
His muffled pleas fall on deaf ears as I focus on the metal table which holds the implements which I’m about to use on him. “Billy Boy,” I greet, chuckling when he tries to mumble, but it’s stifled by the gag. “Time for your reckoning.”
The fear that skitters in his eyes has elation shooting through me. With having so many fucking emotions coil inside me since I took Scarlett, I need this. The violence and bloodshed. I reach for the cloth, ripping it from his mouth before I step closer toward him.
“Tell me something,” I start, lifting the hammer I picked up from the table moments ago. “Did you enjoy those girls you took home after the party a few nights ago?” When my question hits home, his eyes are as wide as fucking dinner plates.
“W-w-what?” he stutters, but he can’t deny it because we have proof. When I heard the rumors about this pig using his authority within the club to get teenagers into his car, or on his bike, we kept a close eye on him.
He hasn’t slipped up before. But a few nights ago, a party at the edge of the local college campus attracted a few underage girls. The cops got there in time to shut it down, but with the Serpents hanging around, Billy Boy over here managed to pick up a couple of those partygoers and take them back to his place.
“I’m not stupid,” I tell him, bringing the hammer down on his knuckles, earning me a howl of agony as the crack of bone echoes in the room. “I hear things. A lot of things.”
“I-I didn’t do a-anything,” he mumbles, before I swing the hammer at his cheek, watching it cave in from the impact. It’s small enough to ensure he’s still able to speak, but if he was to survive this interrogation, which I’m sure he won’t, he will live with a deformity for the rest of his life. And perhaps I should do that to him, to watch him suffer.
“You’re telling me those two girls who sat at the police station last night were lying about you?” I tip my head to the side, setting the hammer down, which has relief flushing across Billy’s face, but not before I pick up a pair of pliers which will come in handy. His expression, or shall I say half his expression, turns to pure dread when he sees what I’m holding.
“P-please?” he splutters blood, the crimson liquid dripping from his mouth, and a tooth falls from the left side of his lips.
“Shit, I must’ve gotten one of those pearly whites,” I tell him, chuckling. “Now, you’re going to tell me more about the job the Serpents are doing for the Cartel,” I inform him, lifting the metal tool in my hand while waving it in front of his face.
The threat is clear.
I overheard the rumors about the Serpents stealing youngsters, but Billy didn’t give them over to whoever he’s working for. He made the mistake of passing out after raping both girls, and thankfully, they escaped.
My blood boiled when I heard their recollection of that night from our informant at the station. Which brings me here, to right the wrongs, to cleanse the sins of the devils. I’ve done some shit in my life, and some of it wasn’t great, but never have I ever forced myself on anyone. I’ll kill, I’ll maim, but my victims have all deserved it, just like the man before me right now.
“I-I c-c-can’t,” he whimpers when I clamp his finger in the thick metal teeth. “P-please,” he begs. “They’ll kill me.” I’ve seen grown men cry, most of them when I’ve had them in this chair, questioning them about some crime they’ve committed. And Billy is no different.
“I’ll fucking kill you right now. How about that?” I challenge, squeezing the handle of the pliers until I hear the beautiful crack of the knuckle between the metal.
His cries are like music to my ears. I enjoy the torture, it allows me to focus, to realize that what I’m doing is good. I’m righting wrongs. I’m the fucking avenging angel and I enjoy the job.
“I-I can’t…” His words falter into the silence as he regards us. Six burly bastards ready to cut him to shreds because of his twisted mindset. “P-Please…”
“Pass me the gas canister,” I order. Howler is the one to grab it, handing it to me with a grin on his face. The asshole loves violence, just like I do. It’s in our blood, in our veins. We were born for this life, and even the knowledge of cops who are usually on our doorstep doesn’t stop us.
But, if they could do their fucking job, like put shit like this away, then we wouldn’t have to do what we are doing right now. Flicking the lighter in front of Billy’s face, I watch the flames dance in his fear-filled eyes and I crack a smile.
I twist the cap on the gas, listening to the slosh of liquid escape when I tip the canister. He knows what’s coming for him, and his eyes bulge with agonizing fear. It’s a beautiful thing to hold someone’s life in your hands. Knowing that at any moment, you could snuff them out like a light, and they’ll never breathe again.
“Are you going to tell me who you’re working for?” I ask again, halting my dousing of his body in the foul smelling liquid, knowing that he’s going to break. He’s a weakling. It’s so clear when his lower lip trembles and the stench of his urine hits my nostrils when I bring the dancing flame closer to his face.
“F-f-father… L-L-Lorenzo,” he mumbles, as tears stream from his eyes. “H-he’s l-looking for g-g-girls.” The moment he mutters the name, I nod, knowing Howler will be on the case, tracking down the bastard we need. I will bring down the organization, and I don’t care who I kill to do it.
Without another warning, I bring the gas up and empty the clear liquid on him before flicking the lighter. The sizzle of flesh invades my ears, and the smell of burning skin assaults my nostrils. Justice is being served, and satisfaction courses through my veins.
The screams of a dying man is a sound I never tire of, the same way the moan of a woman is a melody I am addicted to. It’s a need, a constant desire to listen, to have life in my hands and then to twist it into either pain or pleasure.
The moment Billy takes his final breath, I hand the gas canister to one of the other guys. I don’t even notice who’s standing behind me. I shove the lighter into my pocket, making my way out into the garden, needing fresh air.
When my gaze tracks the house, lifting to the second floor, I find her at the window, watching me. She looks beautiful as she stands there, her anger clear, her fear apparent, but her curiosity a fucking aphrodisiac.
Making my mind up, I hurry inside, taking the stairs two at a time, and when I reach my bedroom, I unlock the door, shoving it open. A gasp falls from Scarlett, but I don’t pay her any attention. I lock the door and hang the key over my neck.
I can feel her gaze on me. She must smell the gas and death emanating from me like a fucking cologne. Shrugging off my cut, I tug the tee over my head and stop at the entrance to the bathroom.
“Care to join me?” I arch a brow over my shoulder at her.
“Fuck you, Darius!” Her words are spat with venom, but I don’t miss how her gaze trails from my torn jeans up my torso before she locks her angry gaze on me.
Shrugging, I chuckle as I head into the room and push the door. I don’t close it, leaving a gap just enough for her to peek through, because I’m convinced she will.
My mind flits back to the information we got from Billy. A fucking priest is stealing girls. Now all I need is to find the bastard and end him.
But it won’t be a quick job. No, he deserves more than just a quick annihilation. He should get a torturous biblical killing. With a smile on my face, I step into the shower and turn on the taps. It doesn’t take long for them to heat, and soon enough, steam fills the roo
m.
The hot spray calms my tense shoulders. I’m lost in lathering the blood off my hands when I think back to the bedroom next door, remembering the woman who’s livid at me for capturing her against her will, and I smile.
My hand grips my shaft, thick and hard from just her scent, and I stroke myself with one hand on the tiles to hold me steady. I don’t look toward the door; my focus is on my need to find release. Because if I don’t, I’ll most certainly walk in there and fuck her into my mattress.
And that’s when I feel her heated stare fueling the desire coursing through every fucking inch of me.
6
Scarlett
His body is so different from Lycan’s. There are more scars. Ink runs from his shoulders to his wrists, and his back is a canvas along with his chest. But he’s as beautiful as his brother. I shouldn’t be here, spying on him while he’s in the shower, but my curiosity got the better of me. I’m almost certain he knows I’m looking. Still, I can’t drag my gaze away from his big strong hand gripping the thickness of his erection as he strokes himself.
I wonder what he’s thinking of. He’s obviously just killed or tortured someone. Does that turn him on? His hand on the tiles slips, but he shifts it upward, and I can’t stop watching his muscles bunch and tense as he finds pleasure.
My thighs squeeze together at the sight, and guilt churns in my stomach as I stare. The man is rugged. There’s a violence in him that expels itself every now and then, something that calls to me, and I shake my head to clear my thoughts.
I can’t do this.
My feet carry me swiftly to the bed where I settled cross-legged against the headboard. The door is still ajar, the promise of Darius naked and wet just a few meters away. That thought has me squirming on the bed once more, and I pray Lycan will be okay, that he’ll wake up and save me.
But what would he save me from?
My own deceitful thoughts?
“Did you enjoy the view?” Darius smirks from the threshold of the bathroom. His hands holding onto the top of the doorframe, as he leans forward wearing only a towel. The dips and peaks of his body dripping wet, and I can’t help but note the tattoos that adorn his body.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I respond, turning my attention to the window instead. Although the view outside is nothing like the one I’m trying my best to ignore.
He knows he has an effect on me, which is bad.
He moves into the room and it’s as if his cologne is an entity—leather and wood. It fills my nostrils, the intoxicating warmth that it provides has me shivering. Not from temperature, but from the pure need to have him closer.
“Come on, little one,” he coos as he stands at the foot end of the bed and I’m thankful he hasn’t come closer. All I can do is pray he puts some clothes on, and quickly. “Tell me what filthy thoughts are dancing around in your mind right now.” He tugs the towel, and my breath catches when I see the fluffy material on the carpet inches from where I’m sitting.
Shutting my eyes, I breathe deeply, trying to calm my racing heartbeat. “Just get dressed and leave me alone.” My voice is a low whisper, but he heard me because he chuckles in response.
I hear the closet door click, and the ruffling of material as I exhale a deep breath that I’ve been holding since the moment his towel landed inches from me. When I hear his soft footfalls on the carpet, I peek through my lashes to find him dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants I didn’t expect him to own, along with a t-shirt which hugs his muscled arms and torso.
“Little spies are meant to be spanked, little one,” he tells me. “I think you need a good seeing to.” Darius settles on the chair at the window, watching me as he twirls the key to the bedroom around his finger.
“Why are you being like this?” I question, trying to focus on the here and now and not that he knows I was watching him in the shower. “You don’t have to act like a dick all the time.”
He pushes to his feet so quickly, his hand wrapping around my throat in seconds, forcing a squeal of surprise from my lips. “I’m hurt, sweetheart,” he says, his thumb circling my rapid pulse along the column of my neck. “Why would you call me a dick when all I’ve done is be nice to you?”
“Nice?” I spit the word, then laugh as he steals my breath with the tightening of his fingers. “You’re far from nice.” I croak my response as I glare at him, but I don’t give in. I don’t cower when he leans in closer, his mouth at my ear and his scent enveloping me.
“Was I nice when you were watching me jerk off in the shower?” he questions in a whisper, low and feral. “Did it make your little cunt wet when you saw my cock, little one?” His hand blocking any air that my lungs try to pull in, and for a moment, my vision gets blurry when Darius moves away just enough so I can see the satisfaction on his face. “Such a pretty doll,” he coos, and my heartbeat thuds in my ears, echoing loudly as I claw at his hand.
I don’t doubt he knows what he’s doing, but fear overtakes the need to be brave, and I allow my tears to trickle from the corners of my eyes. Slowly, ever so fucking slowly, he eases his hold and I cough as my lungs suddenly fill with much needed air.
“Were you wet?” he asks again. “Because I can smell your sweet juices from here.” There’s confidence in his words. He knows I was. But he enjoys humiliating me by asking the questions.
“Fuck. You.” Is my answer, which earns me a chuckle when he finally releases me. “I’m trying to get to know who you are. To learn how I can help you.”
He turns away, his focus on the window, and for a moment, I wonder if I could tackle him and steal the key. But he’s big. And there is no way I can fight him.
“The only way you can help me is by making sure your daddy pays me the money he owes.” He settles back on the chair, resting one foot over the opposite knee. Those eyes, so familiar yet so strange lock on me. “And when your husband finally wakes up and comes for you, I’ll make sure he knows how much you loved being my little captive.”
“He won’t believe you,” I snap. “He knows I love him and I will not leave him for someone like you.” He flinches at my words, but it’s brief, only a split second of emotion mars his face before his mask returns, firmly in place.
“Someone like me?” he challenges. “That’s interesting. Do you know that Lycan and I have very similar interests?” he asks then as he leans forward, his arms resting on his thighs as he looks me in the eye. “Because there are things you clearly don’t know about my dear younger brother.”
“He doesn’t kill people,” I spit angrily.
“Maybe he doesn’t do it himself, but he has a team of men who work for him. Do you think he just dresses in those expensive suits because he wants to?” This time, Darius is on his feet. “The man I just killed moments ago, the man whose blood you saw on my clothes, was a rapist and a murderer. Would you like me to have saved him?”
My mouth falls open in shock at his confession. I saw the blood, but I didn’t think he really killed someone. I don’t know why, but mostly, I’m shocked he admitted to it. That was something I most definitely wasn’t expecting.
“You… He… Are you serious?” I ask, still unsure of what else to say.
Darius chuckles, the sound reverberating through his chest. “Sweetheart, you’re far too innocent for this world.”
“I’ve seen and heard enough to make sure I don’t believe everyone is good,” I throw back. “But you, I can see goodness inside you, and you can’t deny it.” The challenge is there. The need to have him admit he feels something burns in my veins.
“I do bad things to bad people, it doesn’t make me good,” he bites out as he runs his fingers through his hair. He tugs at the strands, and I slowly move, needing to see the hunter that hides under the façade of a bad boy biker.
I’m on my feet, behind him, my hands trembling as I reach for him. The tension in his shoulders eases slightly as he stands still, allowing me to touch him. “You can’t deny that this feels like some
thing human.”
Fear skitters through me when Darius suddenly spins on his heel, his glare locking on me. “Do you like dangerous men, little one?” he asks, dropping his voice an octave, making it vibrate in his throat, sending warmth racing through me. “You can’t fix me.” There’s an edge to his words, and I want to poke at it, to push him further.
I keep my stare on him. “Nobody can be fixed. We’re all broken in some way or another, but we can find ourselves in a better place.” My voice is nothing more than a whisper filled with emotion I didn’t expect to feel.
Darius’s eyes flicker with pain. Heartbreak settles in those green orbs, and I can read every emotion dancing across his face as if he were an open book.
“We learn to live with our agony, we immerse ourselves in the discomfort we want to run from, and when we do that, we find happiness,” I whisper earnestly, recalling my past. The demons that I’ve lived with. Not even Lycan knows the full truth about me. About why I enjoy what I do. “Forcing people who care out of your life is a coping mechanism.” My bitter truth is Darius’s. We share hurt, I’m almost sure of it.
The corner of his mouth quirks, his eyes blaze, and his hands find my hips, gripping me painfully, but possessively. “Did my brother teach you about pain, little one?” His dark brow lifts in question. “Because if he didn’t, I would love to be the one to show you just how beautiful it can be.” When I don’t respond, something sparks in his eyes, and he nods. “You already know about it. Is that why you’re not scared of us? You enjoy it.” His realization is my silent confession. “You’ve lived through trauma.”
And there it is.
But I don’t respond. I don’t agree and tell him about what I went through. Instead, I push away from him and ease myself back onto the mattress. Suddenly, I miss Lycan. My chest tightens at the thought of him in hospital. Hurt.
“He’s alive. He’ll be coming for you soon,” Darius says, as if reading my mind. “But you need to tell him the truth, little one.” He’s right. But I can’t. He won’t love me if he knew. My captor heads for the door, but before he leaves, he glances over his shoulder at me. “Lycan is capable of a lot, and loving you is something he won’t give up as easily as you think.”