Teller (Tarnished Souls MC Book 4)

by Dusty Lassetter

  Like the glowing embers on a fire, my veins are heating with the knowledge that I’m about to get what I’ve so desperately wanted. It’s time to show this world, and the next, what real evil looks like. The time for sanity is over. Tonight, I will let the demons I fight to keep hidden come out and play. Now is the time to prove that I am the one to be feared.

  “I’m going to take my time torturing you,” I declare before kicking him hard in the abdomen. “I’m going to show you what it’s like to be trapped in your own body. Unable to move or talk. Then, I’m going to bury you alive.”

  The new metal shed I built out in the middle of nowhere is still in the same condition I left it. The twelve-by-twelve building is more than enough room to get the job done. I chose this spot because I knew it belonged to hunters, and there are no police out here. I can commit any crime I want, clean up the evidence, and the likelihood of them catching me is slim to none.

  Slasher, who I tied up and placed in the back of the SUV beside his soon to be home, is still passed out from the hit he received to the back of his head. It was more than satisfying to use the very knife he had just stabbed me with to knock his psychotic ass out.

  Scarlett, who I didn’t bother to give a second glance to because I couldn’t take the time to process the feelings of guilt it might have brought forward, should be back at the compound by now. Tate was instructed to drop her off, and hope for the best when it came to what might happen to himself. There is no doubt in my mind the men will try to take some of his hide for payment due, but he went there knowing the consequences. Perhaps, he feels like shit for all the souls he allowed his president to destroy, and seeks penance for his actions.

  I walk to the back of the SUV and open the wide doors. Grabbing a hold of the rope tied around Slasher’s wrists, I begin to knot it together with a longer piece. Once I’m done, I use the longer strand to drag him out of the vehicle. A large smile pulls at my lips when I see his body fall to the ground, causing a cloud of dust to escape into the air. We are only twenty feet from the shed, so I place the rope on my shoulder and begin to drag his useless body to the entrance. I almost feel like rubbing my hands together and sending a cruel laugh into the night sky. I have been patient, and finally I am getting everything I deserve.

  Since I am confident in my ability to overpower him, I’ve chosen not to keep him tied up. Instead, I want him fully mobile. There is only one way out of this room, and I hold the key to the lock I placed on the sliding door. I hope he puts up a fight. I could use the extra violence.

  “Wake the fuck up,” I growl. Since there is no water anywhere, I use the only liquid I’ve got available to me. Unbuttoning my pants, I pull out my dick, and show Slasher exactly what I think of him. Pissing on his face is just the start of our alone time. By the end of the night he will wish that were the worst thing I did.

  “What the hell,” he mumbles once he finally comes to. Slapping himself in the face, Slasher begins the process of rubbing my urine out of his eyes. If the frown on his face is anything to go by, he knows exactly what I used to wake his ass up.

  “Let’s play a game,” I state while putting my dick away before he takes it as an invitation to put it in his mouth. Nothing surprises me when it comes to a man wanting to keep himself from being killed. “I heard you like those.”

  When Slasher doesn’t comment, I decide he may need a little encouragement to acknowledge that he heard me. Taking the few steps needed to be above his head, I roughly place my boot on his throat. “Lesson one, do not ignore me,” I order while applying enough pressure to cut off his air supply. My voice comes out harsher than before due to all the use it is getting. I normally hate to speak this much, but I find that I love using the power of my words to show Slasher exactly what is in store for him. I am the one in charge here, not him. The tables have turned, and he’s no longer the captor.

  “I’ve been doing my homework on you Slasher.”

  I say this as I walk toward the far corner of the shed. Under a sheet, I have placed a couple of tools I made that are identical to the ones he has forced his victims to endure. Before I get revenge for my brother, I am going to get revenge for every woman that has suffered from his hands. Blindly reaching under the cloth, I randomly pick the first item my hand falls on. Pulling the object out, an evil grin pulls at my lips when I see what it is.

  “There is only one objective to our game. You holler out the name of the person you used this on, then I will use another device until there are no more. The better your memory, the less pain you will endure.”

  “Fuck you,” Slasher spits out while trying to get to his feet.

  Scarlett

  From the moment Tate and I stepped foot back onto the compound grounds, utter chaos has ensued. All the Tarnished Souls members are currently filing out of the front door while Mia, Sammy, and Rebecca rush toward me with tears streaming down their faces. The warmth I was feeling from Tate’s body being close to mine immediately vanishes. He has taken a step backward, obviously trying to avoid the human sandwich that is about to occur.

  On the ride here, I didn’t think it was wise to dive too deep into the emotions I am currently oppressing. My body hurts, my throat is raw, and my tongue is swollen so large I’m not sure anyone would be able to understand me if I had anything to say. Thankfully, Tate was able to find me a large t-shirt to wear. It feels strange standing in this yard, lit up by several lights around the compound, sporting multiple bruises and no underwear.

  “I’m going to kill that fucker,” Mia declares, wrapping her arms around me as soon as she is close enough to do so. I try not to wince from the pain of her arm grazing my wounds, but the moment my muscles tighten I hear her growl low in my ear. It’s hard not to cry, from both relief and sadness, but I somehow manage.

  “I thought I’d never see you again,” Sammy starts howling. She is the next person to take me in her arms. Seeing how I reacted to Mia’s more aggressive touch, Sammy gently hugs me before quickly backing off.

  Rebecca is the next person in line they toss me to. Instead of my body, she takes my head in her hands before squeezing it to her chest. I guess this was the only way she thought would keep me from feeling pain. The way I am being tossed from one set of arms to another is making me dizzy, and thankfully, Torch steps up to take control of the reunion.

  “Mia, bring the girls inside. Me and the boys have some business to attend to with Slasher’s VP.” He states this while pushing us behind him. Hammer and Buck are standing off to the side. Obviously, trying to allow us girls the time we needed.

  “I must interject,” Tate declares loud enough for all the people around us to hear. Once I am shoved between Mia and Rebecca, with Torch standing in front of us, I take a quick glance around. The amount of men that are here both amazes and scares me. I had no idea there were this many members in the club. Buck must have been keeping everyone away from the clubhouse in order to make us feel safe. “There is something on this laptop you need to see, and time is not on our side.”

  “I’m getting real tired of men showing up to my club, demanding things from me…”

  “With all due respect, Teller was adamant you would want to see this,” Tate explains while cutting Buck off. Whatever he wants to show us must be important for him to interrupt a very pissed off biker like the Tarnished Souls President. “All I need is a TV to hook my device to.”

  I don’t know if it is Tate’s pushiness, or our president’s curiosity that has Buck gesturing for the intruder to make his way toward the clubhouse. Torch, obviously against the decision being made, takes a step toward Buck with a look of confusion on his face.

  “We need to discuss this,” he declares.

  “There is nothing to discuss. Tate is one man, Torch. He is no threat to all of us.”

  “What if this is a trap?”

  At the question, I decide now would be as good time as any to interject. I was in the room when Tate first appeared in front of Slasher and Teller. The betraya
l on his president’s face was sincere. “It’s not a trick. I was there when Slasher threatened him for being a traitor.” I manage to mumble past my swollen tongue.

  A handful of people can be heard saying “what” before Torch turns to me. Giving me his undivided attention, causing the hair on the back of my neck to rise, he places his hands on my shoulders so I will only focus on what he is about to say.

  “Open your mouth, red.”

  The use of my nickname forces some of the nerves his overwhelming presence brings to dissipate, but not all. I have gotten to know Torch a little better every day, and I am fully aware that he will not allow any of us to move on until I do as I was directed. Slowly inching my mouth open, I close my eyes from the humiliation I can’t help but feel.

  “She needs a doctor,” Torch informs the group. Shrugging his hands from my shoulders, I take a step back fully prepared to do what is necessary to watch whatever is on Tate’s computer.

  “NO!”

  I’m sure everyone around us understood that statement. Even if they didn’t, I know for a fact Torch did. The frown he sends in my direction tells me as much. For the first time since coming to this compound, I completely ignore all voices except the one screaming in my head to get Tate somewhere we can watch whatever Teller wanted us to.

  Maneuvering my way through everyone, I grab Tate’s arm. If no one here wants to show him where to go I will. This is too important to miss. At least, that is what my gut is telling me.

  The television screen comes on and every warm body around me becomes invisible. My eyes are zeroed in on the little square currently playing out the black and white truth I always knew. Teller is standing over Slasher who is trying to get to his feet while holding a belt in his hands. Every time the monster responsible for my current injuries rises, the Tarnished Souls member is there to knock him down again. He doesn’t only slap him with the leather strap, he swings the belt over his head and brings the metal buckle down on Slasher’s face, again and again.

  “What the hell is goin’ on?” Irish asks the rhetorical question. Everyone in this room, and there are a lot of people here, are bearing witness to the beginning of the end of Slasher’s reign. Teller’s doing what every man here has imagined doing countless times.

  “He’s using the same belt Slasher used on me,” Serenity whispers, briefly capturing my attention. Both of her hands are placed over her stomach, letting everyone know what she once endured is enough to make her feel sick.

  I look back at the screen, wishing there was a way for us to hear what is going on, when Tate drags the mouse over the picture. In an instant, my wish is granted, and the sweet sound of Slasher grunting out in pain can be heard throughout the room.

  “You can’t break me,” the Blacktop Sinner’s president threatens. “I won’t say her name.”

  After hearing Slasher’s statement, Teller takes the belt and wraps it tightly around his knuckles. He allows his prey to get off the floor before hitting him directly in the mouth with the metal buckle. The blow forces the Blacktop Sinner’s leader’s neck to bend back painfully fast, and the look on his face goes from smug to confused.

  “Serenity,” Slasher seethes after he has fallen back down to his knees. Teller walks toward the corner of the tiny room they are in while the man he is beating tries to stop the blood from leaking onto the floor. I find that I am not blinking, which causes my eyes to start stinging, because I do not want to miss a single second of this. I want to go to bed tonight reliving his nightmare instead of mine.

  When Teller does return, he has a new object in his hand. This one looks like something you would see at a shoe making shop or sewing store. It has a wooden handle and tiny metal teeth that sit on a wheel. I look away from the screen, turning my focus on Ashley, knowing the scars on her body could have come from a similar device.

  “He’s torturing him with the same devices Slasher used on his victims,” Tate declares.

  “What makes you so sure?” Buck questions, never looking away from the screen.

  “I was the one that gathered them up for him.”

  No one says or asks anything else. For the time being our attention is only captivated by the scene playing out on the screen. Teller is now holding Slasher by his hair with a grin plastered on his face that shows just how much he is truly enjoying himself. The way his eyes are gleaming with power is both scary and mesmerizing. This is a side to Teller I’m not sure anyone has seen.

  “Let’s see how much you like this one.”

  I can hear all the gasps of surprise circling around the room. Not everyone here was aware that Teller could talk, and even some of the ones that were still seem shocked. His dark tone has that effect on people. Especially when he is currently having the time of his life torturing someone.

  Finally taking the tool he’s got a solid grip on, Teller digs it into the side of Slasher’s jaw before running a line all the way up to his hairline. The groan that leaves Slasher’s mouth must not be satisfying enough because once again the tool is dug into his skin and drug along his forehead.

  “Ashley,” he mumbles.

  “What was that?” Teller asks, taking another long swipe across the tender flesh he’s already marked.

  “Ashley,” Slasher groans out from pain.

  “You’re a pussy. That girl was forced to endure more, so you will too “

  Slice after slice, Teller continues to torture Slasher the same way he did Ashley. I can see Irish hugging her close to his chest out of the corner of my eye. Not only is this man getting revenge for Saint, he is getting it for every one of the girls in this clubhouse.

  “What the fuck is he going to do next?”

  “I can’t watch this.”

  “He’s insane.”

  All the men begin to state at once. They are starting to get a sense of what the women went through, and the energy in the room is starting to shift. At first, everyone was curious. The Blacktop Sinners have been a thorn in their side for a long time, only to find out that annoyance was just the tip of their problems. Blacktop Sinner’s men are truly evil, and that wickedness is thickest in Slasher’s blood. Now, they are getting to see firsthand what just one night with them was like.

  As I continue to watch the horrible things being done to the man responsible for everything that was done to me, I begin to smile. I’ve waited for this day to come for a long time. I knew Teller was the only man that would be able to outsmart my enemy. The only thing I hadn’t counted on was him using me to do it. You could say, as I sit here and take in the bloody mess that is the man of my nightmares, I should be grateful to Teller regardless of how he achieved this. A year ago, that would have been a fact. However, I had started to develop feelings for the closed off man. I like that he is quiet. I enjoy the sense of peace his presence brings me. I also like that he never takes no for an answer. I was becoming a stronger person just by hanging around him. Now there is an emptiness in me, and I fear it has everything to do with his betrayal. I would have gone along with any plan he presented to get rid of Slasher for good. I would have volunteered to be the bait. Knowing that he didn’t trust me enough to ask, or care enough to come up with another way tells me everything I need to know. Teller is only loyal to one person, and one person only-Saint.

  Teller

  Once I think this sick bastard has had enough of the leather sewing roulette, I lift his sorry ass off the ground. Standing face to face, with me holding a majority of his weight, I decide my next weapon will be one that is not in the corner. I saw pictures, as well as talked to Tate about what he had done to Dominic’s sister. I am not a fan of the wannabe gangster, but finding out what Slasher did to Maria made me sick to my stomach.

  Lunging forward, I rip into his throat with my teeth, ignoring the taste of his coopery blood as I sink my canines into his skin as far as they will go. This time there is no grunt of pain. Nor is the sound leaving his throat a simple groan of displeasure. Slasher screams out in agony while he tries like hell to e
scape the psychopath that just bit into him.

  “Maria…Maria…” He instantly roars out.

  I don’t bite him a second time, for two reasons. The first one, it’s going to take long enough to get the taste of him out of my mouth as is. The second being, I only have time for one more prop, and this one is special. No matter how many times he hollers out Scarlett’s name it’s not going to stop the onslaught I am about to bring down on him with his homemade paddle.

  Throwing him to the floor, I walk to the corner and remove the sheet covering the rest of my torture devices. There are a pair of pliers that were used on a girl that was too disobedient to train. Instead of selling her, Slasher let the men take what they wanted before removing her teeth. It was her punishment for biting back when Slasher tried to use his teeth on her. Pushing aside a torch that was used to brand multiple women, I finally get to the rope and begin reaching for the handle of the paddle Slasher had been using on Scarlett earlier.

  The entire time I’ve had my back toward Slasher, I’ve been listening for him to move. It becomes obvious that my focus isn’t what it should be when my head is pulled back by a set of hands digging into my hair. Just like Roberto, Slasher has placed a thick blade to my throat. I’ve been waiting for the animal in him to fight back, and it’s not surprising he does so when my back is turned like a true pussy would.

  “Don’t move,” he orders. His hands are shaking from the strength it is taking for him to hold his beaten body up. The knife in his hand must feel like it weighs a ton, but he still manages to dig it into my scar enough to slightly open the old wound up. The feeling of blood trailing down my neck again sends my senses on high alert. I refuse to be this person again. I’m not going down this road a second time. In this moment, there are two choices. Option one, lean back against him, away from the blade, and give him more leverage over my head. Option two, the one I elect to follow, is to lean into the blade and reach for the wooden handle of his homemade paddle.