by Samantha Bee
She's already dressed in her clothes and I look around. Just how long did I zone out for? I look over her shoulder and see the worry in both Declan's and Joe's gazes. They both hate when I go zombie like that. I just don't realize I'm doing it. I get so lost in the torrent constantly swirling inside of me, I miss everything that is going on around me.
"Pops said we could watch Tangled and have hot chocolate!" she whisper screams in my ear and I grin at her enthusiasm. She's all about her movies and her snacks. Easy to please, that girl.
"Okay," I whisper back to her. "But you have to sit with me and hold my hand during the scary parts." She giggles as she agrees before running back to the kitchen to get her hot chocolate. Declan watches her leave with a little grin on his face. As soon as she's out of sight he looks back at me. He studies me for a moment before he leans over and kisses my head with a sigh. "Welcome back to the land of the living, pretty girl."
Joe gives me a warm smile from across the room before the two of them trade looks. Aw fuck. They totally had the chance to talk while I was out of it and now they're on the same page. I have a feeling I'm going to regret that.
Joe senses my unease and his smile slides into deranged territory. "Want to go for a run when she takes a nap?"
Oh fuck, I have a long list of people we need to viscerally fuck up. My whole face lights up in excitement, probably the same way Roe's does when offered food. We all have our pleasures.
Chapter Six
I take a deep breath in and savor it. Hmm. The rich, tangy bite of copper. The heady scent fills me with a sick satisfaction.
Blood. The only form of payment I accept for crimes as heinous as his.
This one feels extra sweet to me. Frank Patterson. Nevada senator. On paper he appears to be a well respected, family oriented man. Just barely scraped the win for his second term. Currently visiting none other than Southern California for business. Lucky me. I didn't even have to go track this one down.
We left Roe tucked into bed with Charlene watching out for her. Ian and Holden plan on dropping the boys off later so she will be well and truly distracted until bedtime. Hopefully, she doesn't miss me too much and won't throw a fit when she wakes up and I'm gone.
Declan left about an hour before we did, having to go and get some things done. He agreed to meet me back at my place later. I think he wants to talk more about the guys, but I really think I'm emotionally tapped out today. At least this run should revitalize me.
If I were being meticulous, I would make this death appear to be from natural causes, the way I did with the Chief of Police, but I can't give up this kill. It's too close to home. Too close to the revenge I need.
He's too young to have really known my father or been in his circle, but he reminds me of dear old dad all the same. Except he leans more towards young boys.
Every slice of my dagger against his skin pays for the atrocities he's committed towards kids. Every cry and whimper that escapes from behind his gag soothes my splintered soul. His pain healing mine. The defeat in his eyes fueling my power and sating my thirst for revenge.
I taunt him as I trade looks with Joe. We were both suited up and ready to head out, minutes after Roe passed out. Neither of us were able to keep the glee off our faces and Charlene had a good time giving us hell for it. But hey, she knows damn well who she married.
He's helped me plan this hit out because it needs to go absolutely flawlessly. A senator being found dead in his hotel room is going to make national news and draw all sorts of interest. I have a plan for that, but we need to be exceptionally careful that nothing can lead back to us. Not that I'm too worried about it. We are as professional as they come. I plan to ensure dear Frank's crimes also come to light as I do it. No way am I letting this sadistic fuck die with his reputation intact.
"I wonder how Marilyn will feel when she hears about what you were really doing on all those business trips?" His eyes go wide at the mention of his wife and I laugh callously. "You think I don't know every minute detail of your life, Frank?" I take my knife and rest it against the center of his hairline, applying just enough pressure to break the skin. "I have a long list of your sins," I drawl and Joe chuckles. I drag the knife down the center of his face, deep enough to leave a scar if he were going to have the chance to heal that much. His eyes nearly burst out of his head as he tries to keep them on the knife as I drag it down. The blood flows heavily down his neck and soaks into his chest.
"Are you getting lightheaded yet?" I taunt him but poor Frank doesn't actually give me a response. So far, I've really only teased him. Every flick of my blade has left only shallow wounds. Bleeding freely, I imagine a bit painful, but really not life threatening. He's probably only lost about a pint of blood. The same if he were to go donate some.
Hmm. I bet he could really use some of the juice they give you afterwards right about now. Too bad we are nowhere near done. I spin my knife in my hand, gently pressing the tip to my finger as I tilt my head to stare at him tied to the chair. "Did you know you can literally peel the face off of a person while they're alive?" I nod as if he answered me before continuing. "You just have to separate the skin from the muscle."
I lean over him and hum. "I've never tried but I'm curious. Do you think my hand is steady enough?"
I throw my head back and cackle at the look on his face and the acrid smell of urine fills the room. "Not so powerful now, huh?" I taunt him. "Do you regret torturing those boys now that you know what they felt?"
He nods frantically. I rear back and punch him as hard as I can. His neck snaps back with the force behind it. A sick crack fills the air and I know his nose is broken. More blood gushes down his face as I spit out, "Liar."
Bastards like him never regret their actions. He only regrets having been caught.
Joe laughs behind him. "You wouldn't have the patience to peel his face off of him."
I pout dramatically, pushing out my lip as I assess my victim in front of me. Trying to gasp for air behind the gag, the blood from his nose, slowly filling his mouth. Hmm how beautiful would it be to make him choke on his own blood? A thought to come back to another time. I do have plans for this one after all.
"I guess you're right," I agree before smirking. "Lucky for me, I know just how Romano tortures anyone who goes against him." I pull the burner phone I prepared and brought with me out of my pocket. "According to this, you owe him money," I tsk at him. He's rapidly shaking his head, but I don't let that disrupt my flow. "He's really not the forgiving type, you know?" I warn him as I move back over to my bag and put my knife away for now and grab my next tool. It's not really my preferred choice, blunt, boring, predictable, but it’s what Romano is known to use, so I'm rolling with it. "You should really be more careful who you associate with. Romano is ruthless."
I move back to stand in front of him. "Not very creative, but ruthless all the same." I lean over and snap his index finger. "He likes to start with a little knife play." I drag my fingers through his blood. "Then breaks every finger," I continue as I snap the next finger. "He really likes to use people to send a message, you see?" I smash the hammer down into his hand, once, twice, three times. I pause and slam it down a fourth time, just for shits and giggles.
Frank's face is bright red, tears and sweat streaming down it. I grin, baring my teeth to him like the predator I am. "Oh sweetheart, we are nowhere near done yet."
I give the same treatment to the other hand, except this time I grind the hammer into the bones after every blunt hit. Ensuring I don't just break his bones, I obliterate them. I relish in every sharp crack that echoes through the room. Each time he gasps for breath and struggles to breathe fills my lungs with the sweetest air of satisfaction.
I look up to find amusement sparkling in Joe's eyes, and grin back. He looks lighter and more carefree than I've seen him in weeks. I feel the same. Almost revitalized. Almost like these kills usually make me feel. Almost.
I turn back to my latest act of revenge. I've been doing so
much under the radar, it's amazing to finally be able to let loose on someone who fucking deserves it. Even if I do have to stick to Romano's boring tactics. Guess I can't cut his dick off. Too bad.
I think of the threat I first gave to Ryder and a smirk crosses my face. For just a moment I forget that I can't laugh about it with him anymore. A feeling of despair settles in my stomach, quickly turning my mood around.
Fucking hell.
I let out a string of curses as I deftly grab the knife and slam it down into Frank's thigh. I keep enough of my sanity intact to not hit anything too vital. Can't have him die yet. Not when I still need to extract my penance from him.
Acting out my aggression on him almost has me smiling again. Almost.
A bad taste is left lingering in my mouth after thinking about the guys. They never fully leave me. My regrets never fully dissipate from the cloud that hangs around my head. I take out my frustration over my own tumultuous emotions on this sorry excuse of a man. I'd say poor Frank, but he deserves every bit of the evil I carve into his skin.
I wear mine proudly. The sins of others engraved into the flesh of my body, telling the story of the evil I survived. Why shouldn't he? His just won't have the time to scar. That's the difference between us, isn't it? Some are born evil, some become evil, and some of us survive the evil that was thrust upon us. My scars are my proof of everything I didn't become. His wounds won't have the chance to heal, won't have the time to scar. They will be the proof of all that I did become. Sadistic, cruel, vengeful. But evil? That's only one of us, and it isn't the one who survived. Shakespeare had the right idea, too bad neither of us are what anyone could define as great.
I grip the handle of the knife and drag it down, shredding the muscles in his thigh. I yank the knife out and repeat the action on his other thigh. Pouring all of my rage into every movement as I rip open his flesh. I continue to savor every reaction as I try to recall other methods Romano is most well known for. Ooo a classic.
I turn back to the supplies we brought and hold up a pair of pliers. "Oh, I've never really played with these before." I move back to him, showing what I now have in my hand. I cock my head to the side, studying his gag. I guess I'll have to remove it.
I hum to myself as I stand in front of him. "You look like the type to have a nice fancy dentist." I shrug. "Too bad he won't have the time to fix this."
Joe moves behind his head without me having to say anything. He jerks his head back sharply, holding it steady. I hold the pliers just by his mouth and give Joe a little nod. We work in tandem, so Frank here has no chance to scream between the gag being removed and the pliers being inserted.
Well, he tries. He just doesn't succeed. He should probably be used to that feeling by now.
I angle the pliers as I use them to grip one of his teeth. It takes a lot of maneuvering and a hell of a lot of strength. Especially with the way Frank attempts to buck and pull away. Damn, I'm sweating by the time I yank the tooth free.
Eww. It's not quite as satisfying as I thought it might be. More disturbing. I've always hated the dentist. I drop the tooth to the ground and examine Frank once more. Joe refastens the gag even as Frank's body sags forward. His head lulls in his unconscious state. He couldn't quite tolerate that last procedure. Too bad, I was still having fun.
I trade looks with Joe as he pointedly looks down at my bloody clothes. Ahh. Okay. Noted.
I shrug as I drop the pliers back down. It was fun to try something new, but not my thing. I could wake him back up, but that took more effort than expected and I'm starting to feel the itch of the drying blood on my skin.
I stretch as I look over my handiwork. I guess I can be satisfied with this. I could play all day, but maybe I don't need to spend any more time with this piece of shit. I feel so much better than I did earlier. Rejuvenated. Blood will do that for you. Or for me anyways.
I hum as I wash the blood off my body in the shower. Joe promised to finish the cleanup so I could come back and shower before meeting Declan. The cleanup is always such a drag, I hate it. I think Joe was feeling guilty about bringing up the guys earlier and let me out of it. Thank fuck.
I'm riding the high of this kill in a way I haven't since the day I left. Having Joe there really helped. I think him reminding me of my anger kind of helped too. I'm hoping the crash isn't worse today because of just how high this wave of euphoria is. I almost know that it will be. I'll be destroyed all over again when I drop back into the deepest pits of desolation, but that's tomorrow's problem. I refuse to let anything ruin this high right now.
I start to sing and move to the sound of my own voice as I wash and condition my hair. I wonder if I can get my posh little fucker to go get a tattoo with me? I miss Mikey and Ronan. I don't know if they've spoken to the guys though and I'm not up for another lecture. There's no way they haven't been keeping up with the news and know it's me.
No.
I can't go and see them.
I wouldn't be able to get a tattoo by anyone else. I guess scratch that idea. Hmm, we could go out drinking or dancing, but I don't know if I'm quite in that mood. I want something adventurous. What could we do?
I grin as the perfect idea hits me. I wonder how Declan would feel about cliff climbing at night. I've heard of this awesome place that does it right on the beach. They have music and glow in the dark paint and colorful lights. I've been wanting to try it for ages.
I turn off the water and reach for my towel when I pause, hearing something. Fuck.
I quickly wrap the towel around me not even bothering to dry my hair. I left my bloody bag in the hallway. Declan is fucking early. Or is he?
Doesn't fucking matter. The evidence of my wicked soul is laid out on the floor for him to quite literally trip over. Fuck. How could I be so careless? I stumble into the living room, still dripping, in nothing but my towel haphazardly wrapped around me.
He quirks a brow when he sees me and lets out a half laugh, half cough. "You're early," I gasp.
He looks down at the watch on his wrist. "Umm, not really." He turns around and reaches into the fridge to grab two beers. I walk over to him and reach out for one. He grins. "You gonna get dressed, pretty girl?"
Oh fuck. I got distracted. I assess him but he's acting completely natural. There's no way he'd be this calm if he noticed the bag. I smile, more relaxed now, but I still need to get that shit into my room without him noticing it. "Yes." I smirk. "But would you mind running down to my car and grabbing the sweatshirt that's in the backseat?" I hand him my car keys and he nods before turning around and walking out the door.
I let out a sigh of relief as I turn around and quickly dispose of the bag where he won't stumble on it.
Chapter Seven
I laugh as Declan bounces his quarter and makes it on the first try once again. “Mother fucker.” He laughs as he waves to the bartender for another round of drinks. When I suggested this game, I had no idea he would beat my ass so soundly.
Derek, the bartender we’ve gotten to know fairly well over the last couple months, brings another round of beers while ignoring our antics. He is pretty used to our presence and lets us do whatever we want as long as we stay out of the way of others. Not like we want to be around anyone else anyways. At least I don’t.
I’ve stayed withdrawn from almost everyone else. Declan has been my lifeline to reality, keeping me grounded from getting swept up in the violent winds of my revenge plans.
I press my beer to my lips still smiling as he continues to bounce his quarters into his cup. Fucker. Here I thought I was good at this game. Apparently not good enough. The asshole just gives me his cheeky grin as he gestures with his hand to drink up. I throw back the beer and wipe my mouth like the complete fucking lady I am. And with that thought I burp. Right. In. His. Face.
His stunned face makes me throw my head back and laugh. Declan is always so polished and put together, even when he meets me after a long shift at the hospital. His angular face is always smooth of stubble, his
blonde hair brushed back and neatly styled. It makes me want to run my fingers through it and mess it all up. Force him to relax some of that perfect air about him.
So burping in his face?
Doubly hilarious because that bitch is too proper.
He just stares at me with shock etched into his every feature, like he isn’t really sure how to respond. “Well then,” he starts as he picks up a napkin to wipe his face. I snort, it’s not like I actually spit on him. Pompous ass. I’d be offended, but I can see the smile lurking in the corners of his mouth that he’s trying to push back. He’s amused by my savage ways, even if it goes against everything he was ever taught growing up. We haven’t gotten into it, but I can smell rich from a mile away. I did a background check after that first night we spent together, and it was easy to confirm my suspicions.
Declan comes from money. Old money. He was raised with certain standards like practicing manners and having a sense of decorum. Fuck that noise. He might be teaching me how to have a real friend, but I’ll teach him how to shed those chains of that elitist society. Because they fucking suck. I recognize how Declan was raised because it's the same way I was raised, not that I’ve told him that part. Yet. Maybe?
He puts the napkin back down on the bar and looks me over. “So what are you feeling…” but before he gets a chance to finish his question a huge blonde asshole is pushing in between us. My eyes crawl up the familiar tattoos that spread up the newcomer’s arms, hesitating briefly on the image of the UK flag on his forearm. Everything in me stills, my heart squeezes painfully as the air gets trapped in my lungs until I feel like I’m drowning in a wave of never ending hurt and misery.
I force myself through the tsunami of emotions bombarding me as I flick my eyes up to meet the golden-green eyes of my fighter. My once partner in crime. Kade. His warm eyes are no longer filled with humor and affection as he stares down at me, his muscles bunched as every part of him tenses. I hear myself gasp as I take in the shuttered look in his eyes. “Of course you would just go back to partying,” he spits at me, pure vitriol coating his every word.
