Judas Bane

by Hera August

Judas clicks the phone off and guns the engine to life, eyeing the road ahead. He grips the bar handles, pulls back hard, ready to floor the rest of the way. Priority is Belle, getting her out of this, making sure she’s safe and away from Vladimir’s clutches.

  Judas miscalculated and now Belle is paying for it.

  His hands tighten, barely resisting the furious need to yank the bars from their position.

  Not again…

  Belle is the last person on Earth who deserves to be going through this. She’s pure and sweet and too fucking good for this world.

  His world.

  People like her—kind and selfless—he never really believed they existed. Not since he lost...

  And Belle is the last person in the world who should have to suffer any kind of torment because of the life he’s chosen to live. Judas’ head shakes, his jaw hardening as he tries to squelch the painful volt searing through him.

  He vows silently to himself. He had watched someone he loved murdered right in front of him. No matter what it takes.

  Never again.

  BELLE HAS NO IDEA WHERE SHE IS.

  Wherever they are, it’s cold. Four gray walls, one small room—that’s all she’s been made aware of. Mr. Kulich doesn’t yield in his pacing, moving back and forth like a person very much at their end.

  This is the man who ordered the death of her father, who wants her killed, along with her mother and baby brother.

  Belle tries to hide the shiver that crawls up her body and the noticeable way it makes her shake, but she’s freezing beyond the limit of her control. Having a cold doesn’t help matters.

  Mr. Kulich hasn’t tied her down, hasn’t even threatened her yet. She doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. He’d told her to move, quietly, and she had done so. Other than that, he seems plagued and in his own world.

  His frantic pacing stops, the hand over his mouth falling, and he looks down at her in the small metal chair as if her presence has just become apparent to him.

  “So you and Judas." His black eyes are shiny, gleaming at her like the tops of his hair. He looks pleased, and she isn’t sure to take that as a good sign or not. She doesn’t reply. His mouth pinches together, his eyes scanning every inch of her. Again, she can’t tell whether he’s frowning or smiling, but her body reacts by clenching together. He licks his lips, making them shiny too. “Just trying to figure out what all the fuss is about."

  She gulps, only answering because he looks at her like he’s waiting for one. "Fuss?"

  “You're a fucking child compared to Judas. You realize that?” He steps closer, one side of his body leaning in like he’s telling her something only she should know.

  She reads his eyes and sees them darken. “I-I—”

  “You think you know him? Got it all figured out, don't you?” His tone is crystal clear in its attempt to demean her. He’s playing a game. She doesn’t know if it’s smarter to keep her mouth shut or play along. But maybe if she keeps him talking, time will go by faster, and Judas will… he will what?

  Mr. Kulich’s eyes are hungry in their taunt. “I know him well enough," she shakes out.

  “Well enough for what? 'Cos you’ve spread your fucking legs and let him fuck you—you think you got him figured out?” He laughs, it comes straight from his gut. He wipes the sheen from his forehead, clutching his side. “Aw, come on, Green Eyes. I know you're young but even you should’ve known that's fucking naïve."

  She ignores him and the way his unpredictable nature frightens her. “Please don't hurt him or my family,” she murmurs.

  Her plea dies at his feet. “We’ll see."

  “What does that mean?” she asks, her face dropping.

  She can’t give up. Not now.

  Don’t break... Judas is going to save me... Somehow... I just know...

  Scraping the corner of his mouth with his finger, Mr. Kulich moves to the gray wall on her left, leans back on it, and props one foot up against it. But even in this casual state, he never seems to relax. “Judas was definitely right about you being the mouthy type."

  Belle uses the insult to her advantage, deciding to turn the question on him, shift the balance. “You talked to him about me?"

  Mr. Kulich eyes her with a knowing glance that steals her thoughts and fixes her fear inside her, dropping like a lead ball. “Oh yeah. All the time, sweetheart. He told me you helped him, saved his fucking life and now he feels he owes you I guess. Or does he make it seem like more? Because you know, Judas doesn't do commitments."

  “I know.” The nerves under her skin tremble.

  “Oh good,” he reiterates, smirking. "So you know he just fucked you for kicks?"

  She doesn’t like the deadened abandonment in his eyes; black, barely noticeable, but clearly feels it. “He was trying to help me."

  “By going against me. I don't know if you realize this, little girl, but I was the one who saved Judas. Made him the man he is today. Nothing’s gonna change that. Especially a pathetic bitch like you."

  He speaks the words so lightly, it’s hard for her to take offense. The man is sick, deluded. Her head shakes and the shadows around his eyes darken, making it almost impossible for her to talk. But she has no choice.

  "He just didn't want to hurt my family… He didn't mean… You can just send us away—it won't matter now."

  “‘Won’t matter now’?” He pushes himself off the wall using his leg. “Now that you fucking ruined everything.” He swaggers closer. “For nearly two fucking decades I was like a father to him! And he fucking betrays me for… for a piece of tail? A quick fuck with a tight pussy who’s gagging for it?"

  “It's not like that.” She hates how small she sounds under him.

  “Then what's it like? Judas doesn't do promises, sweet-cheeks. He doesn't like strings or attachments of any kind.” He bends forward, his face occupying her vision until it’s the only thing she’s being forced to see. There is so much evil in his face, she can’t give him a straight stare without her body recoiling.

  He leans closer. "He isn’t wired that way. In fact, when he came to me a few weeks back, you know what he did, Green Eyes?” She remains quiet, not liking where this is going. “Had a fucking orgy with three of my best girls who know what he likes—needs—but you, you have nothing compared to them... You're nothing.” He laughs, the vibration makes her feel nauseous.

  She doesn’t believe it. It can’t be true. Judas would never do that to her.

  “Then he goes back to you and fucks you for afters! So if he led you to believe he's in it for some long haul—"

  “He w-wanted to help me. That's all he was doing.” Her voice cracks and she uses the edge of her front teeth to subdue the cry that rises and staggers in her throat.

  “From the description my guy gave me, it looked a little more than help,” he whispers, snickering. “Hope his ten-inch cock was worth it."

  Belle feels one tear draw a wet line down her face, and when she hears him laugh, she throws daggers his way. “You're disgusting.”

  Mr. Kulich shrugs, tilting his head to get a better look at the pain she’s struggling to hide. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm more than disgusting. But so is Judas."

  “Judas is ten times the man you are.” Her blood begins to simmer, angered that Mr. Kulich will even dare compare himself to the Judas she knows is real. “He's decent and kind and he—”

  “Oh, Green Eyes, please.” It’s his turn to sound disgusted. He straightens, glaring at her to check if her behavior is in fact sincere. Surprise flickers in his emotionless orbs. “Judas..." he says, shaking his head with a grin, "…you dirty dog… Wow… He's better than I thought. It was an act, you dumb bitch. Can't you see that? He felt guilty. Anything more is your childish delusion, sweetheart."

  “Judas—”

  He strikes her face with a sound like the cracking of a bullwhip. The crack of skin contacting skin, echoes off the walls. Clutching her cheek, vibrations of pain start in her cheek and spread over her face, tears welling
in her eyes.

  “Don't you fucking dare tell me about Judas, you stupid fucking whore!” His hand slices through the air, his jaw quivering in rage, dampening the last sounds of her breathing. “I raised that fucking kid. I made him into the man he is. You think you know him ‘cos you let him fuck you? I got an eye-opener for you then. Judas fucking Bane is a killer. My killer. He kills people on my orders, when I say, where I say, no questions asked. He's been doing this for me for years! So don't you dare fucking preach to me about who Judas fucking Bane is."

  He comes closer again and her eyes shut on instinct. The wild fire of hate in his stare is unbearable against her will. He grabs her roughly by the chin, digging his nails into the flesh. “If you think you know that man in any way—you don't. If he told you he wanted you—fine. But if Judas made it out to be anything more than to get into your fucking tight pussy—he lied." He finally lets go of her and his eyes trail up her body. She shivers in her skin. “Must've been easy,” he sneers, licking his lips. "I mean, I saw it. When I first met you. Could see you were begging for me to fuck you hard with my big old cock."

  “Fuck you,” she mutters, her jaw hardening. She really dislikes that word. But she dislikes the man standing before her even more.

  “Oooh, girl's got mouth.” Mr. Kulich bends down, leaning his hands on his knees. “I like… Wonder how good it is for sucking my big cock.” His voice lingers in her ears.

  Belle doesn’t like the way he’s talking to her, or looking at her, doesn't like the intention she sees burning in his features, like he’s detaching his soul for the moment, separating himself from whatever humanity he has left inside him.

  She twists, giving him only a small glimpse of her profile. "Judas is not going to like this. You know that much about him."

  “He'll get over it. He always does. And in the end he always sees my side and does what I need. For Christ’s sakes, I’m the great man who fucking saved him from his sick-fuck of a dad,” he laughs, goading her. “Don't think this is about you, Princess."

  “You think he's just going to kill me and my family? Drop our bodies in some river?!” she cries out, but she hears the desperate groove in every crack of her voice.

  “I'll let you in on a little secret."

  She feels his breath on her throat and her body reacts by shifting away. He grabs a chunk of her hair—it hurts so much, she feels a wave of nausea—forcing her to face him, look him in the eye, and take in all the garbage he is spewing.

  “This isn't about you. Judas is a business man. First and foremost. He wanted something from this—but it's not you. It was never you. Maybe advancement, maybe his own territory, who fucking knows. But if you think this whole fucking job is about saving you and your worthless piece-of-shit family, I got news for you, sweetheart—you're wrong.” Yanking her hair again, he jerks her closer. She can't help the yelp that escapes her mouth from the pain. “Dead wrong."

  He lets go, wipes his hand on his suit pants as though she’s contaminated him. He looks down at her, his gaze both pitying and pompous.

  “You’ll see just what Judas is capable of, real soon, Green Eyes… I'll give you a tip though. If you're a betting girl, the odds are stacked way against you. Don't do it.” He shakes his head, glancing at his watch before he looks back at her. “Don't put your trust in Judas. You'll be thoroughly disappointed.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  THEY CALL HIM DIABLO.

  The Devil.

  For a reason.

  Holding his left elbow tight against the ribs that Diablo’s just splintered with a set of powerful blows, Judas struggles not to wince as his feet shuffle back to the edge of the arena, and out of the blinding light of the torch-topped stone columns that ring the circular center. Wearing dark loose cotton trousers, Judas’ bare feet are cold against the stone floor, his naked torso cool, a stark contrast to the feel of fire burning in his ribs. But he’s not worried, he’s suffered worse. The fight has only just begun for Judas.

  Diablo’s bottom lip is split open, and an angry cut marks his forehead. Judas can happily take the blame.

  This is Judas’ territory, his area of expertise. He does this all the time. Inside the arena there is nothing but him and the pain he inflicts on those who dare enter. But tonight is different. He’s no longer fighting for the glory.

  He’s fighting for her.

  Belle.

  His eyes dart behind his opponent. The sight is enough to make his stomach churn and make his blood boil. That bastard Vladimir has locked her in a dog cage. In her underwear. By his feet. Emphasizing to everyone that she’s on display. A trophy. Nothing more. A symbol of Vladimir’s power.

  Belle’s eyes are wide and frightened to death, her breathing heavy and whimpering as her tears flow. She stares at Judas, terrified. It almost breaks him apart. He wants to put his hands on her face and brush his thumbs along her cheekbones. Tell her everything’s gonna be okay. That no man will hurt her while he’s still breathing. He’d die for her.

  But not today.

  Belle rattles the bars of her metal dog cage. A new visual blazes in Judas’ head when Vladimir kicks her cage, his eyes unnatural and unnerving. Her scream bombards Judas from all angles, echoing through the underground room. That’s all it takes for adrenaline to kick in. The crippling pain in his ribs vanishes as he stares at Diablo through new eyes.

  The Devil is the only thing stopping him from getting to Belle.

  The faces of the men and the half-naked women by their side, watching him, are irrelevant. Judas lets them fade away, focusing on nothing but the space inside the columns. Nothing exists but him and his opponent, and the space in between.

  He has to block Belle out. It’s the only way he can save her.

  Diablo steps back into the light that emanates down from the dome high above, bathing the center platform. His tattooed bald head shines. The Devil has no color in his eyes. They’re pure black. Like staring into a dark hole. Steroid enhanced pecs twitch in anticipation, ugly veins protrude from his neck, his face a hideous mess of blood and ink.

  But Diablo won’t be standing for much longer.

  Diablo grips his fists in front of his chest and flexes, massive muscles bulge as he roars like a wild beast. Judas struts into the middle of the arena, feeling the familiar surge of adrenaline course through his stomach, fire through his skin. He breathes it into his muscles, welcoming it like a favorite drug.

  Diablo stands head and shoulders taller than Judas, towering with muscles and malice. He’s big too. Means he’s slow. His face is pale, an ugly mash of features, his nose looking as if it’s been broken more than a few times. He gives a relatively stupid-looking smile that Judas supposes is meant to be intimidating, considering the missing teeth. But Judas isn’t intimidated. Diablo is massive, but it all boils down to the same thing. Seek out the weakness, exploit it, and win. He’s noted a slight limp, the way Diablo favors his right knee, just a touch. And the slow, deliberate movements, and the way his fat fingers struggle to make a tight fist.

  The insipid disrespect on Diablo’s face is replaced with bloodlust then. A primeval urge to kill. He leans toward Judas and roars again, his face flexing. Judas stays calm, prepared. These games are his strength. The giant is all anger and rage. Diablo exudes a desperation to destroy as quickly as possible. Judas can use that. He’s watched Diablo fight before. Kill. He knows how dirty and desperate the Devil plays.

  He looks into Diablo’s snarling features, pins the man’s eyes with his own emotionless ones. They shift a few paces from each other. Diablo’s face twists in fury, his hands curl into claws, the muscles of his forearms and chest bulge. He opens his mouth wide, growling again. Judas breathes deeply. This is combat, the essence of his life. He’ll fight. He’ll win. It always goes down the same way.

  Diablo barrels forward, charging Judas like a bull. Judas calls it, sidesteps, lifting his knee to deliver a heavy turning kick to Diablo’s thigh as the giant passes. It’s the kind of kick that
usually causes a significant amount of damage when landed well. Judas lands it well, but feels a shock arc up his shin. Diablo’s leg is like stone. The big man spins, grinning.

  But Judas has learned something about his opponent, and Judas dances back, ignoring the pain, breathing it away. Watching Diablo, he reads the man’s intent. Diablo charges again, swinging one colossal arm to collect Judas. Judas drops, plants one hand firmly against the stone floor, and sweeps his leg around at ground level. He connects with the back of Diablo’s ankle and swipes the man’s feet out from under him. With a grunt, Diablo falls, hits the ground, but rolls and regains his stance. Judas barely shifts his weight in time as Diablo swings again, huge knuckles cracking into the side of Judas’ head, just above his left eye.

  Pain lances white-hot through Judas’ skull as he ducks and turns. Judas makes a space between them, determined not to press his palm to the throbbing hurt. A warm trickle passes under his left ear and he knows Diablo’s iron-hard knuckles have split his skin just behind his eyebrow.

  “Ready to die, Bane?” Diablo grins.

  Judas feints forward, reading Diablo’s timing. As the giant moves, Judas ducks through, driving the heel of his hand up, letting the power from his hips flood down his arm. Diablo grabs air and Judas’s palm crunches into his opponent’s nose. Dark-red gouts, spray Judas.

  Judas leaps to one side, twisting away as Diablo roars in pain and frustration, his own strike missing. Diablo wipes blood and snot from his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “You breathing okay?” Judas smirks. “Need a rest, old man?”

  Diablo’s eyes go wide, incredulous, as he flicks the blood away. Judas circles, waiting; he’ll let Diablo make the next move. Let the man’s frustration and anger make him clumsy. But then Diablo pulls something out from the back of his knee-length shorts, and grins. Judas sees something shift in his hands.

  A serrated hunting-knife.

  Judas doesn’t care. He doesn’t need a weapon. He’s more lethal than Diablo with his bare hands. And Diablo’s holding it wrong, Judas notes with a hint of amusement. He’s grasping it like he’s intending to stab with it, but that isn’t prudent. If he wants Judas dead, he needs to hold it downward; he needs to use it to cut through flesh and bone.