by Renee Rocco
“We haven’t even begun, and you’re already begging for him?”
I open my eyes and die inside when Jamie drops to her knees. “Get the fuck up.”
But she doesn’t. She kneels there. On the dirty floor. Practically at this motherfucker’s feet. For me. And I want to puke because I’m not worth the loss of her pride. “David, please, stop.”
“Shut up, Jamie,” I spit.
This scumbag doesn’t have an ounce of mercy. Not for me. Not for her. Not for anyone.
But Jamie ignores me. “Your fight is with me. I’m the one who betrayed you. Me. And I’m here, so take your revenge on me, and let him go.”
David saunters out from behind me, and his grin is nasty as hell. The kick to my head knocks me stupid. Blacks out my vision, and the ringing in my ears drowns out Jamie’s screams. But I shake off the effects, and everything takes shape in time for me to see Crane slap her to the floor. While she’s down, he nails her in the stomach with a solid kick. He steps aside so Lyle can get in on the action, his booted feet wrecking her. And Owen, that jerkoff, is laughing so hard, he’s doubled over.
I destroy my wrists and ankles fighting against the restraints. “You fuck. You’re dead. All of you. Dead.”
Crane clasps his hands behind his back and paces in front of me. “Have you ever heard of a whipping boy, Wraith?”
I hock spit at Crane’s feet. “Go fuck yourself.”
He ignores me and continues. “A whipping boy was a child educated alongside a monarch. This child would receive corporal punishment for the monarch’s transgressions while the prince was forced to watch.” He slides a sinister glance at Jamie. “Consider yourself the prince, Wraith. Jamie is your whipping boy. Voice anything other than a plea for mercy or a scream of agony, and I’ll sew her mouth shut and beat her half to death.”
Oh Christ. Oh fuck.
I fuse my lips and narrow my eyes on Crane. Inside my head I say, Do your fucking worst, but you better kill me, because I’m going to peel your skin away from your bones and leave you to bleed out like raw meat, you sadistic prick.
Jamie, dazed, regains her feet. She tries to stand up straight but can’t, and I have to look away because the monster is raging and being chained and helpless is only adding fuel to that fire.
“Or,” Crane adds, pacing casually. “I can have Lyle rape her while you watch. I’ll kill you both right after. Quick. A single bullet to the head. No blades. No drills. No pain. You have my word.”
I swallow the bile that rides up my throat. “Or, you can suck Lyle’s dick.”
“Do you swear that you’ll—”
“Don’t you fucking dare, Jamie” I roar at her. “Fuck that. Do your worst, Crane. Rip me apart. I don’t give a shit. I’m your whipping boy. But you don’t touch her. Not you. Not Lyle or Owen. She walks out of here intact. Your word on that.”
“Done.” Crane returns to his position behind me. His breath brushes across the nape of my neck. “Feel free to cry out when it hurts.”
The first strike of leather on flesh is nothing. A mild annoyance. The setup for what’s to come. The second is angrier. The third, a reminder of how bad it’s going to get. At the fifth, I bite my lip to hold in the pain. By the eighth lick of the leather, I’m on a whole other plane of existence and drowning in agony and blood. But through the blackness tugging me down into an abyss of torment, I keep my focus on Jamie. She gives me the strength I need not to slip into the darkness.
She falls to her knees and braces herself on her hands. Tears spill down her cheeks. I don’t know what she’s saying. Can’t hear past my labored breathing as I struggle to stay conscious. I lose count of how many times this douchebag hits me with the whip.
But it stops.
Just like that.
Something at the door catches Jamie’s attention. Her eyes go wide, and there’s yelling. So much fucking yelling. A single shot explodes in the room. It’s deafening. Owen hits the floor dead. Lyle, that miserable prick, grabs Jamie and puts a knife to her throat, using her as a shield.
My roar shakes the fucking walls. Seeing Jamie’s panic crystallizes everything around me, bringing Jester, Malice, and Havoc into focus. Guns out, they’ve got Crane and Lyle locked. They won’t kill Crane. And with Lyle using Jamie as a human shield…
“Let her go, asshole,” Jester warns.
Lyle shakes his head, his eyes wide and terrified. “Not until I’m out of Gomorrah.”
“Don’t be stupid.” Havoc is too calm. Chillingly calm. “It’s over. All your friends are dead. Let her go.”
“Shoot him,” Jamie hisses.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I growl.
Lyle jostles her as he tries to maneuver toward the door. She flinches because God only knows what damage they did to her when they kicked the shit out of her.
Malice, that cold sonofabitch, steps closer. “Trust me?”
“Yes,” Jamie says without hesitation.
“Don’t,” I say simultaneously.
“I’ll kill her,” Lyle whines.
Malice aims. “No, you won’t.”
A single shot to the head ends Lyle. His brains paint the wall, and he drops to the floor.
Jamie doesn’t even flinch. She snatches the key ring off his belt, and with help from Malice, limps over to unlock the cuffs from around my wrists and ankles. They help me to my feet, because my back and chest are torn to hell and my head is ringing like a sonofabitch.
“Get her out of here,” I tell Malice.
Jamie pulls away from Malice and lumbers over to David. The force of her hand across his cheek is a crack of thunder. “You lost, David. You’re going to die knowing the one person you couldn’t own left you for the one person you couldn’t control.” She steps back and drags a disgusted glare over him. “Pathetic.”
And with that, she kisses me and tells me she’ll meet me upstairs after I dispose of the trash. Then she turns on her heel and leans on Malice for support, with him helping her shuffle out of the room.
“Oh damn,” Jester says after she’s gone, still with his gun trained on Crane. “Harsh, man.”
“She’s not wrong,” Havoc adds. “You are pathetic.”
I jerk my chin at Crane. “Is it true? His men are dead?”
“Yeah. We cleaned house,” Havoc confirms. “We found one guy alive down here, but Jester said he’s one of ours.”
“Roger,” Jester confirms.
“Thank fucking God.”
At least one of Jamie’s friends made it through. Not sure what happened to Thomas, but after the shit he pulled…
But anyway, I’m a torn up and bloody mess when I walk over to Crane. “Hear that, asshole? We destroyed you. And after I kill you, we’re going to wipe your little kingdom off the map. You won’t even be a memory once I’m done with you.”
He looks at my chest. At the damage he did to my body. “You’ll remember me, Atticus.” He stresses that ridiculous name. “Every time you look in the mirror, you’ll remember me, and every time Jamie sees you, she’ll see me.”
“Nah, we won’t.” I motion to my friends. “Help me get this motherfucker in these chains.”
Jester keeps the gun on Crane as Havoc forces Crane in the cuffs. He doesn’t go willingly. I’d be disappointed if he did. His struggle adds flavor to the fight. I meant it when I told him I wasn’t going to drag this shit out. Jamie’s waiting for me topside, and that’s more important than dragging out some epic torture scene. Besides, I want this over. I want out of this goddamn dungeon. Out of the room.
I want Crane out of my fucking head.
But that doesn’t mean I want him going to the grave clean.
Crane’s already begging, trying to bargain, as I grab the drill from the table. By the time I’m done excavating his right deltoid, he’s sobbing. When I burrow a hole in his left, he pisses himself and vomits down his chest. Not done yet, though. Next is the blades. I slash at his chest. Cutting nice and deep. Like he did to me. Slicing through
meat and muscle and relishing every whimper as his blood puddles at his knees.
“Sucks to have to kneel at my feet, doesn’t it?”
He doesn’t answer, of course. He can’t speak past his sobs, poor bastard.
Havoc and Jester are watching me, but I don’t care. I ignore them as I go back to the table and grab the blowtorch. I turn up the flame good and hot. So hot, it’s cold. Crane screams for mercy before I even begin melting his skin. And once I touch the flame to him, his wails bounce off the walls.
The room stinks of charred meat and piss and vomit and fear. I strip him raw of every drop of pride. I take everything from him and bleed the last of his dignity out all over the floor.
“Apologize, and I’ll kill you quick. Snap your neck. Right now. Clean. Painless,” I hiss in his ear.
He’s heaving, nostrils flaring. Mouth compressed in a hard, quivering line. The stubborn bastard stays silent.
“Take the offer, man,” Havoc says.
“Fuck that. I want to see him suffer some more,” Jester counters.
Crane keeps his lips locked.
“Suit yourself.” I return to the table and grab the scalpel. I wave it in his face, and he knows how I intend to use it because of what he’s done to me. “You remember what you did to me with this, don’t you?”
He flayed me.
Now I’m going to do the same to him until I get that apology.
If for no other reason than for the kids he’s hurt. Killed.
This fuck deserves nothing less.
I touch the blade to his skin and he breaks like a bitch. “I’m sorry. Oh God, I’m sorry. Tell Jamie I’m sorry.”
Jester comes to stand in front of Crane. “Is he crying? Holy shit, he is.” He points to Crane. “He’s crying. Wraith, did you cry?”
“Probably. But it sure as fuck took longer than this.”
Crane shakes his head. “You wouldn’t give me your tears. That’s why I pushed you so hard. I had to make you…”
His sentence trails off, so I finish it for him. “What? Like you? A fucking coward? Yeah, no. But it’s all good. Because I have Jamie, and you’re going to die with nothing.” I move behind him. Wrap my arms around his head. His muscles stiffen. His breathing quickens. “Go to hell, you sonofabitch.”
I twist my body, throwing all my strength into the jerk of my arms that snaps the bastard’s neck. He slumps forward, hanging there, the restraints preventing him from hitting the ground.
And just like that, Jamie and I are free.
“This room gives me the creeps.” Jester comes up beside me. “Can we please get the fuck out of here?”
Havoc is already walking backward toward the door, his Glock on Crane in case the prick isn’t all the way dead or some shit. But he stops and stares at the torture tools before shoving his gun in the holster. He overturns the table. The crash resounds in the room, mingling with the vicious curse he lets out as he heaves out a rasping breath. Then he squares his shoulders and smooths his blond hair away from his face.
“Fuck this place,” he growls.
A disgusted shiver skids up my spine as I cast one last glance around the room. I hock a mouthful of spit on the floor near Crane’s hunched body before walking out of the dungeon.
The monster stops clawing at me and finally goes silent.
I leave it behind to rot along with Crane’s corpse.
25
Jamie
I step out into the yard, welcoming the blast of crisp, November air. The snow-tipped Appalachians scrape the sky as I hunker down in the orange Thrasher hoodie and sip my morning coffee. I already miss the brilliant blaze of golds and reds slowly leaving the cozy valley as the trees shed their leaves.
Our valley, wild and free in front of me.
Our house behind me.
This is where I belong. Where I’ve always belonged. I was just too broken and stubborn to accept that fact.
For the first time in my life, I’m excited about the holidays. I’ve never celebrated Thanksgiving or Christmas. Not in their truest sense, surrounded by family and friends, but here I am, like a little kid, all caught up in the spirit of the season.
It’s like I was reborn the night I stepped out of the van took my first breath of Mayhem after being away for eight years.
Wraith once told me the town has its own gravity.
He wasn’t wrong.
Mayhem brought me back. It brought Wraith and me together. Gave us a second chance, and I’m all in. No more running. We can’t undo the past, and every day is still a struggle as we deal with the pain we’ve endured, but David is dead, and that’s what’s important.
Unfortunately, so many innocents were killed before we were able to stop him. Children tortured, their lives cut short by a madman drunk on power. But we ended his reign of terror, and that’s what we focus on. That’s how we are able to sleep at night. His associates will spend the rest of their miserable lives rotting in jail. We left Gomorrah in flames, and although Thomas didn’t survive, Roger did, and he’s currently settled in nicely in an apartment over on Terrace Street.
Ava’s been a regular fixture there, but neither will fess up to dating. I find it adorable how they blush whenever they’re in the same room together. Tempest torments them about it, which is hilarious.
It’s fun to have friends.
I set my mug on the table, excited to get behind the wheel of the Ford later today. Since I never learned to drive, I’m now the proud owner of a learner’s permit. Wraith takes me out regularly and has nearly ripped the “holy shit” bar clean off. But each lesson goes smoother than the last, and my road test is scheduled two weeks from today. Thankfully, we remembered to grab my birth certificate and Social Security card before we torched Gomorrah, so those were obstacles I didn’t have to overcome to get this point.
In my quest at catching up with life and becoming an actual person with an actual identity, it’s been an experience getting to know who I am now that I’m free to be…me. It’s strange and fun and terrifying as I figure out who I am.
“Morning, Runt.”
My pulse quickens at the delicious rumble of Wraith’s voice. “Morning.”
He wraps his arms around my waist. “So, there I was, wanting to fuck my girl. You can imagine my frustration when I realized the bed was empty.”
I melt into him, his powerful body warm and wonderful behind me. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“You should have woken me up.”
“I didn’t want to bother you. You looked too comfortable.”
He rests his chin on the top of my head. “Nah, I’m never comfortable when you’re not in bed with me.”
“Bullshit.” My snort echoes over the backyard. “A marching band can, literally, parade over your actual body, and you wouldn’t even roll over.”
“True that.” He hugs me closer, tighter, and nothing has ever felt as natural as being in this man’s arms. “Still hate it when I wake up and you’re not there.”
I turn around, and when I lift up on my tiptoes, he presses me down until I’m flatfooted. Instead, he hunches his body so that he’s on my level. I brush my lips over his. “I’m never that far.”
“Better not be.” His kiss isn’t gentle, and that’s okay. I don’t want, or need, gentle.
The longer I’ve been home, the less I’ve relied on my defenses, until one day I realized my once precious wall was gone. Wraith hammered at it until he finally reduced it to rubble. Ironically, the more I live without it, the stronger I am. I’m done hiding. Done pretending. No more masks. No more ugly clothing that blends me into the background. Everything is different and wonderful and I’m living a life that’s more than I ever felt I deserved when I was homeless and starving and so lonely, I thought my heart would break in half from the ache of it.
I snake my arms around Wraith’s waist and stare up at his sculpted face. “Remember when we’d sit under the tree in the schoolyard?”
“Remember? I lived for lunch because
I knew you’d join me.”
I smirk at his confidence. “Arrogant much?”
He lifts a brow. “Am I wrong?”
“No,” I admit.
His smile is beautiful. “That’s because I’m never wrong.”
“Anyway,” I continue, ignoring his colossal ego. “You have no idea how many times I wanted to tell you I loved you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
I blink up at him for a full ten seconds before laughing at his ridiculous question. “Because that’s exactly what you wanted to hear from the sixteen-year-old version of me.”
Wraith tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his eyes soft as he stares back at me with such an unguarded expression it whispers over my soul. “You mean the sixteen-year-old version of you I was in love with?”
“You were not,” I scoff.
“No? Then you tell me why I counted every freckle on your face.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Why I would shift so that you have to sit in a certain spot because the sun would hit you at just the right angle.” He kisses my left cheek. “Missed half of what you said because I was lost in all that gold sprinkled in your eyes.” He kisses my right cheek. “I would wait for you to come out of the building, my palms sweaty and my heart racing, and holy shit, when I’d see you walking over to me, it’d be like nothing else mattered but the two of us.”
His words push the air right out of my lungs, leaving me breathless with emotion. “Are you serious?”
“As a goddamn heart attack.”
Thank God for Mayhem because I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. With anyone else. Wraith and I are imperfect puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together.
“I love you, Wraith Shaw.”
Wraith drops his forehead to mine, blocking out the world. “Love you, too, Runt.”
