Cold Cole Heart

by K. Webster

  Cold Cole Heart

  Copyright © 2018 K Webster

  Cover Design: All By Design

  Photo: Adobe Stock

  Editor: Lawrence Editing

  Formatting: Champagne Book Design

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Synopsis

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Warning

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  Playlist

  Books by K Webster

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  I once was a hero.

  Until she kept me as her captive, tortured me, and killed my brothers.

  She bred a monster.

  Nothing could stop me from seeking revenge.

  But it was over so quickly—her easy death a mercy she didn’t deserve.

  For a decade, the burning rage of what she did has transformed into something uncontrollable. Something I want to feed. Something I crave to unleash.

  I want to make her pay.

  Over and over and over again.

  Finding the evil, spoiled women sates my ravenous, vengeful soul.

  I hunt. I capture. I destroy.

  Slowly. So slowly.

  One, two, three, four, five…

  And now six.

  I’m wicked and sadistic.

  I am Cold Cole Heart.

  My mission is death and their payment to me has come due.

  Number six thinks she is different.

  Yet when I look at her, I see them.

  She will pay.

  They always do.

  To my heart and soul,

  Thanks for tying me to the bed, Matt, so I’d be able to describe it properly.

  And…

  To Misty,

  This book was especially written for you.

  Ask and you shall receive, my friend.

  I like not fair terms and a villain’s mind.

  —William Shakespeare

  Warning:

  This book has violence—sexual, physical, and mental.

  Proceed at your own risk.

  Ten years ago…

  ONE. TWO. THREE. FOUR.

  Slowly, they slide out the door.

  Two left. Heart and Gold. Two of the very best and they outrank the rest.

  But time’s ticking.

  Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

  Jesus Christ! I’m losing my mind.

  “Breathe, Captain,” Gold rasps out.

  I can’t see him in the never-ending darkness, but I can feel him. I can almost hear his heart beat thud-thud-thudding in my ears—a cadence that matches my own beat for beat.

  “I’m t-trying,” I grit out through chattering teeth. The temperature is bone cold. So goddamned cold. It’s the kind of cold that settles deep inside your bones and stains itself to the marrow. A cold, no matter how many flames I encounter later in life, I’ll never be able to warm.

  I laugh, the sound harsh and crazed.

  Later in life.

  My life ends soon. Tonight even.

  Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

  Soon I’ll blink and I won’t exist anymore. My soul is slipping away. These monsters created cracks within me. Deep, dark crevasses that suck all humanity into their void. I’m lost. I’m so fucking lost.

  “Breathe, Captain.” His words are firmer this time. Authoritative even though I technically call the shots. I’m going fucking mental.

  “I’m g-going t-to k-kill her. Slowly.” My teeth chatter long after my threat is unleashed into the frigid black air.

  “You’ll get your chance,” he assures me. “I think I may have a plan.”

  Hope, a tiny slice of light in my dark world, spears through the madness I’m consumed by. It stabs me right in the chest like a motherfucking poisoned arrow. I let it infect me. Little by little at first. And then I’m drunk by it. High off the tiny sliver of hope.

  “What?” I hiss. I can no longer feel my limbs. My soul has escaped my body and is lingering in the shadows alone. Only hanging around because Gold is still here. Our four brothers are gone. Nothing but gutted corpses leaving a trail of blood as they’re dragged from our prison.

  Gold tells me we’ve been prisoners here for four months. It feels like four goddamned eternities. I don’t know how he stays sane. I don’t know how he lives and breathes normally. If it weren’t for him, I’d die of a catastrophic mental breakdown.

  “When they come back, feign that you’re dead. They’ll unchain you and take you away. There’s enough slack in my chain I can kick the small one. I’m pretty sure at least. That leaves you with the big one, though. You can’t hesitate. It has to be quick and soundless. If not, she’ll send more of them to us and we’ll never have a chance.”

  He sounds so determined.

  It makes me determined too.

  Gold, three years my senior, should have been the man in charge. But I scored higher and outperformed him on every level. Yet, in the face of atrocities, he’s leaps and bounds above my twenty-one-year-old self. He’s levelheaded and cunning. Gold isn’t letting the terrorists—the fucking monsters—win.

  I won’t let them win either.

  SEAL Team Six is now two.

  But we can do this.

  “When will they come back?” I ask, the chatter in my voice leaving as heat surges through me. Adrenaline is beginning to warm me from the inside out and fuck if it doesn’t feel good. My nerves tingle and buzz as my body fires back to life—like an old engine finally being turned on after years of sitting idle in a snowy field. I can feel my toes. They no longer have nails on them. Neither do my fingers. Those motherfuckers tore those off one-by-one weeks ago. My open, festering wounds all over my body that the queen cunt personally gave to me gape and bleed. Pus dribbles down the slices. I’m a big goddamned mess. Because of her.

  Top bitch.

  Cunt with the cat eyes.

  A monster in mink.

  The self-proclaimed queen of fucking Egypt.

  Anta. Goddess of war.

  We were sent to Halayeb to take her out. She was slaughtering our troops who were trying to g
et into Yemen. Hordes and hordes of them she annihilated with her wasps as we call them. Men trained to hide in plain sight. To kill and not be seen. They protect the queen at all costs but do her bidding in a silent, lethal way that has the world confused as fuck.

  Everyone believes her brother, Achoris, was the one doing all the harm. And as far as the country and her religion are concerned, it’s true.

  But the US isn’t stupid.

  Her brother is a mask. A weak puppet. Silently, like the viper she is, she manipulates her brother through God knows what sort of means to do her bidding.

  We caught on to what was happening via some intel in Cairo. A few locals weren’t afraid of Anta. They’d been victims of her wrath—lost family because of it. Slowly, we accumulated the intel we needed to assimilate our team and strike.

  Problem was…the queen was waiting.

  Anta drew a trap and we fell straight into it.

  She’s a motherfucking monstrous terrorist and has been using the SEAL Team Six she captured to gather her own information. To toy with America and have them now do her bidding. She’s yet to drag any information out of us. We’ve all been heavily trained, especially in the event of capture. There’s nothing she could do to us to get us to spill anything to her. It pisses her right the fuck off and that’s enough for all six of us—well, two of us now—to keep quiet.

  “Captain,” Gold barks, cutting through my haze. “They’re coming.”

  I blink away all thoughts and focus on the sounds. The thudding of boots has my heart rate spiking in my chest. I’m starved and weak and losing my mind, but I’ll be damned if I let these fuckers win. This ends tonight.

  A clunk sound as the heavy lock gets turned echoes in our lightless chamber.

  Creak!

  The metal door protests on its hinges as the men open the door. Light, brilliant and mesmerizing, floods into our cell. They laugh, the sound dark and hollow, as they no doubt look forward to more of our torture. But while they do some pretty shitty things, it’s her. Anta is the one who ruins our souls with her horror show. She comes waltzing in wearing one of her pretty white gowns adorned with precious gems with her knives tight in her grip and she slaughters who we are. Bit by bit. Usually, she leaves with one of us in tow. A token. She takes pride in bringing her newest kill back with her. Vicious cunt.

  I remain deathly still with my head hung forward, my chin resting against my chest. Despite the thrumming in my veins, I don’t move a muscle. Everything in me begs to stare at the open doorway, desperate for a glimpse of something other than black, but I won’t. Because the only time she lets me out is to inflict torture of a different kind.

  “H-He’s dead,” Gold stammers out. “You fucking monsters killed him!”

  The men stop in front of him and a cracking sound indicates one of them punched him. He groans but continues to lose his shit over my perceived death. The little man beats up on Gold relentlessly but heavier footsteps make their way over to me.

  I’m sitting in a kneeled position with my arm stretched out above me. The shackle is loose around my wrist because of all the weight I’ve lost but not loose enough for me to slip through it. The chain hangs straight from the ceiling.

  The man mutters something in his native tongue, but I get the gist. He’s annoyed he has to drag my big ass out of here. At six foot four, I’m every bit as tall as this guy. When I’m not someone’s captive, I’m solid and pure muscle.

  He nudges me with his foot. I remain still and let his push twist me around as I hang from the chain. He grunts and reaches for his heavy key ring. The keys jangle as he searches for the right one. When he pushes the key into the hole at my wrist, I ready myself. I hear the clink as it unlocks.

  I make my move.

  Grabbing at his chest, I drag him toward me as I clutch the chain and whip it around his neck. He gurgles and punches at me, but I’ve already got my legs around his waist, latched on tight. I wrap the chain around his throat once more. Using my body weight, I hang on with everything I have, hoping he suffocates soon. Gold and the little man are fighting until I hear a sickening crunch. A deadly crunch. I snap my head in that direction in time to see the little man struggling to yank his knife out of my friend’s skull that he’s driven straight through his right eye.

  I dry heave.

  My resolve weakens.

  What the fuck.

  And then he’s headed for me. Maniacal and screaming. His arm is raised as he storms my way. As he nears, I twist and the big guy takes the knife to his back. All fight he had left in him drains out as the little man tries to wrench his blade out. Now that the big fucker is dead, I reach up and release the latch that’s been unlocked but not opened. I slam to the floor with a hard thud. The big guy unravels from the chain and falls on the little one.

  “Argh!” he hollers as he tries to push him off.

  I stand on weak, shaky legs and walk over to the dead one. With a roar, I yank the blade from his back and plunge it right into the little man’s right eye.

  Just like he killed Gold.

  An eye for a motherfucking eye.

  Soon, all the roaring and grunting has ceased.

  The only sound that remains is the thundering in my chest.

  Her.

  I’m going to kill her.

  She’s the reason for all of this.

  Quickly, I wrangle the pants off the big one and put them on. They hang around my bony hips, but it’s better than nothing. I steal his keys and make my way toward the light.

  Fuck, does it ever burn my eyes.

  It’s as though it doesn’t like me anymore. The goddamned light. Stabbing and burning and magnifying who I am. A monster finally released from my cage. The light is disgusted by me as it attempts to bathe me in its warmth. All it manages to do is illuminate everything that’s wrong with me.

  I stumble out the doorway and can’t bring myself to look out because I’m too focused staring down at myself. My skin is gray. Green almost. Pus and blood are smeared all over my slashed chest. Muscles I once had no longer exist. My flimsy skin hangs from my bones like it’s melting right off. Loose and fucking ugly. My jet-black hair has grown out and hangs in my eyes. Greasy and wild.

  I’m free.

  Feral but free.

  Raising my eyes, I snarl at the ornate hallway greeting me. Nothing like the disgusting hell hole I’ve lived in for months and months. Everything is gold and shiny and pristine. I want to fucking destroy it all.

  Slowly.

  Piece by motherfucking piece.

  Break everything she owns and then break her.

  Like a freed, starved, and abused lion, I stalk my tormenter. As I was trained, I slash men along the way. One by one. I sneak up and end them. Bam. Bam. Bam. I want to scream in delight, but I bite my tongue. I will find Achoris and then slaughter him in front of his cunt sister.

  Then, I will spend years flaying her chest open and stealing her goddamned soul.

  Fucking years.

  Slash. Slash. Slash.

  I find her pussy-ass brother receiving head from one of his men. His eyes are wide with horror when they meet mine. The asshole doesn’t get a moment to scream. I slice open his lover’s neck and then I plunge my knife straight into the temple of Achoris, ending him quickly—too quickly. I’d wanted Anta to witness it, but the rage inside of me isn’t following logic or reason.

  It isn’t until I catch a glimpse of a monster in the mirror that I take pause.

  New blood coats my face. My brown eyes are almost black with rage. I’m no longer Captain Cole Heart.

  I’m this.

  I’m vengeance.

  I’m rage.

  I’m death.

  My mind swims with plans to draw out her death for an eternity. I will hurt her day after day like she hurt me and my men.

  A scream pierces the air behind me.

  When I turn, I face off with the goddess of war herself.

  The motherfucking queen of Egypt.

 
She’s seen my handiwork after all. I thrum with satisfaction.

  “You will pay for this,” she snarls in perfect English that’s stilted slightly by her accent. Tears stream down her rosy cheeks, ruining her mascara. Her plump lips tremble with fury.

  The woman is beautiful, sure.

  On the surface.

  But inside, she’s vile and rotten.

  I want to scalp her silky brown hair straight from her pretty head. I want to carve out her green eyes that don’t match her brother’s. I want to rip away her tongue and stomp on it.

  Slow.

  Slow.

  Slow.

  Blackness overwhelms me and I act. I don’t feel like my body belongs to me as I attack.

  Fast.

  Furious.

  Ferocious.

  Slashing and slashing and slashing.

  So. Much. Blood.

  The silence overwhelms me in the queen’s castle.

  I’ve destroyed the enemy.

  Killed their queen.

  And in my rage, I showed her the mercy she never showed me.

  A quick death.

  I fucked it all up.

  Present…

  ANTA LIVED.

  Sure, that day, I gutted the psycho princess and ended her life. But her motherfucking spirit lives on. Through them.

  Spoiled. Calculating. Manipulative. Evil.

  It’s as though her spirit—her goddamned soul—has drifted from the Middle East to the great state of Washington and she lives here now through them.

  Which is why I seek them out.

  A dark avenging angel.

  I find the monstrous woman over and over again. She’s everywhere, really, living on through them. And I find them all. Each and every one of them.

  I make them pay.

  With their hearts. With their bodies. With their cunts. With their lives.

  Because they’re all her. I see it in their eyes. Evil swarms there like her angry wasps that so desperately protected their queen.

  I do this for my brothers. My fallen SEALs. For Gold and Mack and Jude and Riley and Grouper. The medals of bravery the United States government handed over were a joke. I wasn’t brave. I was scared shitless.