Venom’s Revenge: Ruthless Rejects MC, 1

by Sam Crescent

  “Do you want me to get Pip to go and give her a wake-up call?” Crank asked.

  Pip was one of the scariest fucking dudes around.

  I’d seen the damage that dude could do with a fork, let alone a knife or a gun. When he saw a target, everyone had to step out of his way because he was coming for them. He’d have been a real good sergeant, but he’d declined the position. When I’d asked him why at the time, he’d slapped his head and told me he wasn’t right in the head. I needed someone stable. He wasn’t.

  “No. No one else goes down there.”

  “You going to keep her like a dog?” Crank asked, flicking through a couple of her school books. I picked one up too.

  It’s a weird thing to notice but I saw she had neat handwriting. I also happened to see that she liked putting a heart in place of a dot above her i’s. Why would I notice that shit? Closing the damn book, I dropped it to the table.

  I didn’t need this shit.

  “You know you can back out at any time,” Crank said. “None of the men would care.”

  I glared at Crank.

  For a guy who didn’t talk a whole lot normally, I was finding his voice really fucking annoying and coming from me, that said a whole lot of shit.

  “Why do you suddenly care what the fuck I do?” I asked.

  “Because this is new even for you.”

  “Fuck you, Crank.”

  “I’m being serious right now. You think this is a joke.” Crank pointed at the books.

  “Do I look like this is a joke?”

  “I’m your VP. I’m here for when you want or need advice.”

  “I’m not asking for it.” I’d had enough of listening to him.

  “You’re going to hear it. She’s a kid down there. I know it’s exactly the same as your sister but hurting her. Raping her. It’s not going to bring your sister back, Venom. Not even close.”

  I smirked. “I’m not going to rape her.” I did have some standards. Some men may not consider rape a crime but I liked my women to be wet and eager for me. Like Sugar and Spice, when I fucked them, they had to be dripping. Soaking. I never had to use lubricant when I wanted to take a woman’s ass. If I wanted to do that, she gave me what I needed. Her pussy provided enough lubrication that I used it to fuck her ass. “I’m going to make her want me, need me. Then I’m going to fuck her so good, make her beg for me. Make her plead for cock, beg for the club to satisfy her.”

  “After all that?” Crank asked.

  “Then I’ll decide if I kill her. Her father’s not getting her back. She’s mine. I’m fucking keeping her and I’ll be the one to decide what I do with her. No one else.” I pushed most of the shit from her backpack into the trashcan and stopped when I saw a large folder.

  I remembered she’d held it in a fucking death grip, almost too afraid to let it go.

  Curiosity was a dangerous thing, but I was interested in what she was holding so damn close to her fucking heart. Flicking open the page, I saw that it was filled with an array of different colors. There were some pictures. One was a field complete with daisies. As I went through the book, I saw more detail in each picture. Some were just blends and bursts of colors. Then I saw some sketches.

  Some were of men and women.

  She was good. No denying that, but instead of throwing the folder in the trash, I placed it under my arm, heading up to my room. She wasn’t getting it back anytime soon and I had a feeling that it could be used as leverage when I needed it.

  Rebekah

  Darkness surrounded me.

  I didn’t know how long I’d been awake, but fear strangled me, consumed me until I was suffocating. The darkness terrified me, not just in this situation, but the inkiness that wrapped around me. I hated the dark. It’s why I always had a nightlight by my bed. Childish for my age maybe, but when you basically raised yourself the little things got to you.

  I was still fully clothed.

  The men who took me, I had no idea where they were or why I was even here.

  Fear gripped me and the need to hurt myself, to give myself that pain that would be an outlet, let it escape, was so strong in me. But I couldn’t do that either. My hands were chained to the wall. I lay on a bed, the smell of age strong. I couldn’t help but wonder how many people had been in this very spot waiting for death.

  Did I deserve to die?

  I wasn’t a bad person.

  Hard working.

  Caring.

  Loving.

  I’d never said a mean thing to anyone and yet here I was, taken, chained up, probably going to die.

  My stomach grumbled and I sniffled, forcing myself not to cry.

  The sound seemed to echo around the room, mocking me.

  I hated crying more than anything else. Crying equaled weakness and when you cried, people laughed or felt sorry for you.

  Moving my hands, the chains rattled above me. The sound scared the hell out of me. It reminded me of old movies where people were chained up, about to be tortured.

  I heard a door open and suddenly light filled the room. I had to blink rapidly because of the sudden blindness. I had enough slack from the chains that I was able to cover my eyes with my hand, warding off the brightness.

  Someone whistled as footsteps sounded closer and closer.

  After a few seconds, my vision finally adjusted to the bright light and I saw a large, tall man. He wore a leather vest, but I couldn’t see the insignia on the back, or make out the patches on the front. He held a tray in one hand, grabbed a chair from the corner with the other, and dragged it across the floor.

  The scraping noise made me flinch. Just seconds ago, there had been complete silence.

  He sat down beside me and I moved toward the wall, trying to get far away from him.

  He looked incredibly strong, fierce, and I remembered he had been the one who’d grabbed me.

  Tears filled my eyes and I hoped I had the strength to keep them at bay, to not let them spill down my cheeks.

  Gritting my teeth, I stared, waiting, bracing myself.

  “Hello, Rebekah.”

  I thought about staying quiet, but figured that might make things worse.

  “Hi,” I said meekly.

  Why the hell was I exchanging pleasantries with one of my kidnappers? I was going crazy already. My heart raced and I was in a state of panic. I hated this feeling of being trapped. Of having nowhere to go.

  I was chained up like some vicious dog and I’d never hurt anyone.

  “Ah, you’re a good girl. So good.” His voice was hard and I saw the smirk on his lips as he stared at me.

  “What have I done?” I asked. “Why did you take me? Where am I?” The questions came from me fast and hard.

  I saw that my questions had taken him off guard. Good. Then he’d know exactly how I was feeling right now.

  He tilted his head to the side, watching me.

  “What have you done wrong? You’ve done absolutely nothing.”

  “Then why am I here? If I’ve done nothing wrong, why kidnap me? Whatever your problem is, it’s not with me.”

  “It’s exactly with you, Rebekah.” He set the tray, which I noticed had food, on the bed beside my leg.

  “How do you know my name?”

  “I know a great deal about you. I’m surprised though. I figured your father would have taught you better, kept you close.”

  “My father?” I felt my brows knit. “Kept me close?” I shook my head. “I don’t see him at all. I mean, he stops by when he needs money or a place to crash but I don’t see him.” I didn’t see either of my parents apart from my mom when she wasn’t passed out. “He doesn’t give a shit about me, so if you plan on using me as leverage for something concerning him, for a debt he owes you, I’m the last person that will make him man up.” The tears were even stronger now, threatening to come forth. “He doesn’t give a shit about me or what happens in my life.”

  There was a time we’d been a happy family. I knew it, felt it. I’
d seen the evidence, the pictures of us smiling when I was really young, the broken memories of my childhood before it went to shit.

  I remembered my mom talking about the good old days when my now piece of shit of a father was worth something.

  But then things had changed so quickly. We’d lived in the trailer park for so long, I wonder if she even knew what she said, if her memories were fucked because of her drinking.

  And then my father had spent time in prison for a crime they refused to tell me about. I’d pushed it back, never asking anymore, never trying to find out why. I guess I just didn’t care anymore.

  But what my mother was vocal about was his whoring ways, which always ended up with her loud mouthing and cursing. The neighbors who weren’t afraid of her would come and put her in her place. This was just one of the many reasons why I had to get away and be on my own.

  “Well, that’s bad luck for you because I know your father. He and I go way back.” The man leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees.

  I couldn’t help but notice his striking blue eyes. The other thing I noticed … he looked ready to kill. There was rage shining back at me.

  Fear gripped me.

  “I don’t know who you are,” I said.

  He leaned back in his chair and smirked, but it was far from pleasant. “Your father raped and murdered my little sister. He went to prison for it but before I could get my revenge he’d been released and disappeared.” He grinned then and this time did seem very happy with himself. “For a long time I’ve waited for my time, when I could give him exactly what he deserved, and then you came along, Rebekah. His little girl. I think payback is always a dish best served cold, and you, sweetheart, are just the thing I need to make that bastard pay.” He lifted the tray off the bed and placed it on my lap. He unlocked one of my hands. “Now eat up because you and I are going to have a lot of fun.”

  I had to find a way out because I knew whatever this man had planned, pain would be at the forefront.

  Chapter Three

  Rebekah

  The chains rattled as I shifted on the bed. There was enough slack that I could sit up fully with my back to the wall, my arms at my sides. He’d left me and the tray of food an hour ago, and although I should’ve eaten something, I had no appetite.

  I was too worried about how he was going to torture and kill me all in the name of my father’s past sins.

  I did drink the unopened bottle of water though, the only thing that I felt safe in consuming. For all I knew he wanted to poison me. But then on the heels of that thought I felt ridiculous.

  He could’ve hurt me ten ways to Sunday by now. He didn’t seem like a man who would take the easy way out by poisoning my food. No, he seemed like the type of man who pulled fingernails and burned skin just to hear his captive scream and plead for their lives.

  I shied at that thought and the image it conjured up.

  I looked around the room I was in. The light above me was a single bulb hanging from a wire from the ceiling. It was too high for me to touch even if I could’ve stood up and reached for it. As it was I couldn’t even move a foot away from the bed, which caused problems, seeing as I had to go to the restroom.

  There was a smaller room off of the one that I was currently in, no door but I could see a standup shower with no curtain, the toilet, and a sink. I clenched my legs together. That bottle of water had already made its way through my body. God, I had to pee, but asking the beast of a man who had me chained up scared the hell out of me.

  The walls around me were cinderblock, the floor cold and unforgiving cement. This was definitely a basement.

  I stared at the door, the only exit in this room. No windows, no vents. Nothing.

  But the door didn’t look like anything reinforced, pretty plain and standard, easily something that a person could get through.

  And that made me even more scared.

  I sat on the edge of the bed, far enough back that my feet didn’t touch the ground, just the tips of my toes barely skimming the cold hardness. I didn’t know what this man planned, or how far he would go with me. Did he even believe that I had no relationship with my father, that he wouldn’t care that I was gone, that he probably wouldn’t even notice?

  Hell, I was positive he wouldn’t notice I was gone, and even if he did at that point I’d probably already be dead. I heard noise above me and tipped my head back to look at the ceiling. I could hear footsteps, several sets, moving around, followed by deep, muffled voices. And then the sound of someone coming downstairs not far from where I was pierced my foggy brain.

  The sound grew louder, closer, until those footsteps stopped right in front of the door. I stood up, the coldness sleeping right through the center of my body, and moved back so I was pressed against the wall, my side to the bedpost.

  The chains jangled and slammed against the wood, my heart in my throat, my eyes feeling wide.

  Then the lock was disengaged and I felt my entire body tighten, fear consuming me. I curled my hands to my sides, my nails digging into my palms. The pain kept me grounded. No doubt there was blood pooling underneath the small crescent-shaped wounds.

  The door opened and I saw the man who’d taken me standing on the other side. His gaze landed on the tray and he made this deep, annoyed sound in the back of his throat.

  “You didn’t fucking eat the food,” he said in a harsh, guttural groan. He stepped inside the room and kicked the door shut behind him with his foot.

  “Eating is the last thing on my mind,” I said and instantly snapped my mouth shut, not sure why I talked back to my captor.

  He didn’t say anything as he walked over and tossed the bottle of water he’d been holding onto the bed. It bounced twice before settling on the mattress. He was staring at me now, the anger and annoyance clear on his face.

  I wanted to demand he tell me what he wanted with me, what he planned to do with me. But fear had too much of a hold on me. Keeping my mouth shut and playing along with the rules would do more for my safety than if I fought right now.

  “I’m not going to kill you,” he said slowly, precisely. “Not as long as you behave.”

  And although he said he wouldn’t kill me, he never said he wouldn’t hurt me, torture me, rape me. And maybe at the end of all of this I would’ve preferred to be dead. He walked over to me and I shrank against the wall, my heart thundering and my palms flat against the cinderblock.

  The porous material was rough against my palms and I curled my fingers against it to steady myself. He grabbed a key out of his pocket and reached out for my wrist. My entire body was tight as I watched him unlock the chains from me. I instantly started rubbing my sore wrists.

  Before I could even move he had a different chain, one I hadn’t seen that had been tucked under the bed, shackled around my ankle. He pulled the rest of the length of the chain out from under the bed. I looked down at it, realizing it was long enough for me to go into the bathroom.

  I said a silent, thankful prayer to whoever was listening.

  “There is showering shit in the bathroom. I’ll bring down another tray of food.” He stared at me in the eyes, his look intense, frightening. “You need to fucking eat it.”

  He turned and left me alone, shutting the door behind him just as the tears finally started to fall down my cheeks.

  Venom

  * * *

  I curled my hands into tight fists at my sides and looked over my shoulder at the closed basement door. I couldn’t get her expression out of my head, the way she looked up at me with wide, frightened eyes, the fact I could practically smell her, taking her scent into myself. I was hard right now, her apprehension turning me on like nothing I’d ever experienced before.

  She was gorgeous and innocent, vulnerable and afraid.

  That combination did something to the very primal part of me. I wanted her in every degrading, filthy fucking way. I didn’t rape women, and I had no intentions of torturing her either, even though I was sure she assumed
I’d do both. Hell, I wouldn’t kill her.

  What I wanted to do to her was much worse, much more damaging. I’d make her want me, rely on me. I’d make her so desperate for my touch, my presence that at the end of it all, when I’d had my fill and she’d been used by me, then I’d discard her. I’d leave her a broken mess.

  Because that kind of revenge lasted an eternity.

  But as I thought that, a little sliver of remorse crept in. I believed her when she said she didn’t speak to her piece of shit father anymore, that he wouldn’t care if she was missing. I knew she told the truth because I’d done more digging, realized her mother and father didn’t even know she’d been gone for the past couple of days.

  But that didn’t mean I was going to let her go. I was still going to exact my revenge even if it wouldn’t have the kind of power behind it that I’d hoped. I was still going to follow through with this and make pretty little Rebekah depend on me like I was her lifeline.

  Then I was going to fucking extinguish that flame.

  Chapter Four

  Rebekah

  Not for the first time I wondered if anyone was missing me. Time stood still in my cage. My captor came down often to see if I was still alive. He left food, disappeared, and if I didn’t eat he sat with a gun pointed at me.

  I didn’t know if I’d been there a week, two, maybe even three. Besides being released for a shower, I couldn’t do anything. The room was blank and my mind was fucking crazy.

  I loved the outdoors. Even when it was cold it was where I was often found—or at least it had been until he took me.

  Venom.