Chapter 42
When I was sixteen, shortly after going to work for Gio, I watched Vin beat a man to within an inch of his life. Vin was only eighteen at the time, but growing up in the life that he had, the violence was second nature to him.
It wasn’t to me, though, and I was in awe of the power Vin had in that moment. How he could so easily bring a grown man to his knees, sniveling and pathetic.
I made a promise to myself that day that I’d never let anyone have that kind of power over me. I’d never let someone else dictate my actions. I’d never let someone else control my emotions. Never let them elicit a response from me that I didn’t fully intend to give. And I’ve been steadfast in that vow ever since.
Except that’s not really true.
Not when it comes to Riley.
Shecontrols me. She has the power to bring me to my knees. She has the power to break me so easily.
And she doesn’t even realize it.
It’s a scary thing, giving someone else that kind of power over you. Relinquishing yourself to them with the hope that it doesn’t destroy you.
And it’s for that reason, that power she so easily holds over me, that I let my emotions come to the forefront. That I let them consume me until the churning, acrid ball of hatred in my gut is the only driving force for what I’m about to do.
There’s no coming back from this–the last shred of my morality that’s about to be obliterated.
But I”d gladly spend an eternity in hell if it meant getting vengeance for her.
Trevor watches me from the dining room chair he’s tied to, a self-righteous grin on his face. His hands are bound behind him through the back of the chair, his ankles tied to each of the front chair legs. I crack my neck as adrenaline courses through my body, and will myself to calm down enough to do Riley justice with this.
“Did you like the message I left you?” Trevor asks, laughing, as I walk over to the kitchen counter and start opening drawers. I find the one full of utensils and pull out a steak knife.
The thought of gagging him again briefly crosses my mind, but I decide against it, wanting to hear him scream as I make him pay for everything he did to Riley tenfold.
Vin leans casually against the entryway to the 70s style, yellow kitchen. His hands are in his pockets and his expression is carefully blank, but I’d seen the flash of anger that crossed his features earlier when he got a glimpse of Riley’s brutalized back as he helped lift her from the bed.
When I saw what Trevor had done to her, my heart skipped a beat before ramping into overdrive. Fury coiled through my body at the words ‘Trevor’s Whore’ carved into Riley’s flesh.
The letters of the first word, carved across her shoulders, were a combination of new red scars and still scabbing wounds.
It was the second word that worried me, red and inflamed across her mid back, still bleeding when I pulled down the blanket. The sour stench that accompanied it tells me they”re infected, and my stomach twists, wondering how long she’s been lying there, helpless and bleeding out.
I step toward Trevor, knowing I can’t drag this out as long as I’d like. Riley needs a hospital, and she needs it sooner rather than later.
I had briefly considered leaving Vin here to babysit, so I could come back and take my time with this, but once I leave here with Riley, I won’t be able to get myself to leave her side again.
So, I need to figure out how to inflict the most pain possible in the least amount of time.
“Two birds with one stone,” Trevor continues, like he’s having a casual conversation with a buddy. “A message to remind both of you who she’ll always belong to.”
My teeth grind at his words. Riley is mine. Nothing he could do will change that.
My hand clenches around the knife’s handle, but I force myself to stay composed. To not bury this knife into his skull as he taunts me.
I circle him slowly, like a predator stalking its prey, waiting for the right moment to strike. His eyes follow my every move, but he shows no fear.
He will, though. By the end of this, he’ll be the pathetic, sniveling, weak man that I know he is.
When I stop in front of him again, he grins at me–a big, toothy smile. My lips twitch, my body vibrating with anticipation to cut into him like he did to Riley.
“God, her ass squeezed me so tight when I fucked her.” He tilts his head back, like he’s lost in a fond memory. “And when I dug that blade into her skin, she got even tighter. It was fucking beautiful.”
My carefully contained rage snaps and my fist connects with his face, his head whipping to the side and the entire chair nearly flipping over. When he looks back at me, he smiles as blood runs from his nose, teeth painted red.
I fist his hair, pulling his head back as I tower over him. Blood drips from his chin.
“How’s it feel, knowing I took all of her firsts?” he taunts. “That I was the one who taught her how to suck dick. That I was the one who tore into that virgin ass.” He laughs. “She’ll probably never let you in there now. It will forever be my hole.”
Bringing the blade to the hollow below his ear, I apply a bit of pressure, but not enough to break skin. “I don’t care about her firsts,” I tell him, pressing in a little until I puncture his skin. “I care about her lasts.” I lean forward, bringing my lips to his ear. “Which are all fucking mine.”
I drag the knife down the side of his neck, just deep enough for blood to seep from the cut. The knife is dull, and I have to apply a decent amount of pressure, tearing the skin more than slicing it.
Trevor lets out a hiss as I pull the blade away and release his hair, stepping back to analyze him and where I want to cut next.
“We’re the same, you and I,” Trevor says, breathing harder now. “We’re both obsessed. We’re both possessive. We both know that Riley needs a man to control her.” He laughs again, the sound crazed. “You really think she’ll stay with you after all of this? You’re the same as me!”
Lunging forward, I grip him by the throat, fingers digging into the cut on his neck. But his words bounce through my head like an unwanted visitor.
We’re the same. We’re the same. We’re the same.
I squeeze his throat until he starts to struggle, then let go. He gasps, sucking in deep breaths as I tell him, “We’re not the same. And you know why? Because I’d never hurt that girl. I’d fucking kill myself before I did.”
Trevor laughs. “You’ve already hurt her,” he sneers. “Deeper than I ever did. I may have broken her body and battered her mind, but you… you took a piece of her fucking soul.”
I bring the steak knife down into his thigh, plunging it through his muscle and twisting before leaving it. But it’s not enough to silence the storm in my mind. To stop the current of agony flowing through my body.
He screams and I grab another knife from the drawer, using it to slice his shirt open, exposing his stomach.
“Grab his shoulders,” I tell Vin.
He stalks over, pure lethality in human form. Trevor starts to struggle, pulling against his restraints, thrashing the best he can in the chair as it rocks on its legs. Vin grabs his shoulders, holding him flush against the back of the chair.
I bring the knife down on his chest, making my first cut. “You know,” I tell him, blood dripping down his chest as I tear the knife through his skin, “I’m feeling pretty generous right now.” I pull the knife in a curved path. Trevor screams as I move closer to his sternum, the muscle there thinner, allowing my blade to graze bone. “I could just kill you, but I think I’ll leave you with a message of my own instead. Tit for tat, you know?”
Trevor bucks wildly against the chair, his hips lifting in a futile attempt to stop me. “Fuck you,” he hisses through clenched teeth.
I ignore him, finishing the cuts across his chest before moving lower, sinking my knife into his abdomen and starting the second half of my masterpiece.
Trevor’s body thrashes in Vin’s hold, and I pause to look up at him, a sadistic smile on my face. “Too much?” I ask. “Need a little breather?”
He says nothing, harsh breaths leaving his mouth as his chest heaves, blood running down his torso and soaking into his jeans.
“I’m sure Riley didn’t get a break, but I’m not an unkind man, unlike you.” I pull the blade from Trevor’s stomach and he sags in the chair.
Setting the knife on the kitchen table, I walk back to the utensil drawer, grabbing a handful of forks before returning to him.
I stop in front of him, contemplating. “Or maybe I should give you something else to focus on? Distract you from your stomach. What do you think?”
Trevor lifts his head just long enough to spit at my feet before letting it fall forward again.
“I think that’s a yes,” Vin says, still standing behind Trevor.
I fiddle with the forks, shuffling them between my hands as I study Trevor, a canvas in front of me just begging for my brush.
“I think you’re right,” I tell Vin, stepping in front of Trevor and waving a fork in front of his face.
Vin grips his hair, pulling his head back to force him to look at me. Trevor’s jaw clenches, nostrils flaring as his eyes follow the fork. He’s starting to sweat, and it sends a thrill through my body.
“You’re welcome,” I tell Trevor, then bring the fork down into his shoulder.
He grunts through clenched teeth, and I grab the second fork, bringing this one down into his thigh, right next to the knife still in it.
Then his other thigh.
Then his side, right below his ribs.
Then his other side, his biceps, and finally, his trapezius.
Trevor screams, and I grab the steak knife from the table. Vin grabs Trevor’s shoulders again, holding him still as I resume my work on his stomach, this time digging the blade in deeper as I go.
All the ugly, dark rage swirling in my body is channeled into those cuts. All the hatred for Trevor and what he did to Riley flows through the blade of my knife.
Blood pours from his body, slicking his skin, and obscuring my view. I grab the kitchen towel hanging on the refrigerator door and swipe harshly at his chest and torso, wiping up the blood and pulling at the wounds, the ragged skin tearing even more.
“Fuck!” Trevor yells, spittle flying from his mouth when I dig the blade in again, finishing the last part of my masterpiece.
Trevor screams, his voice breaking on a sob when I sink the knife into his lower left side. I twist it, leaving it there, before stepping back to admire my work.
‘Emmett’s Bitch’ is carved into his torso, blood running from every letter, creating a gruesome work of art.
“Fucking beautiful,” Vin says, coming to stand beside me and admiring my creation. He pulls out his phone, snapping a picture.
When Trevor’s eyes close and his head starts to sag, Vin reaches out and slaps Trevor’s cheek. “Ah, ah,” he tsks. “We’re not done yet.” Trevor’s eyes snap open, and Vin shows him the photo. “Such a pretty canvas, you are,” he coos.
Trevor’s eyes dart to mine.
And that’s when I see it. The resignation in his eyes.
I drop my hands to my knees, bending down so I’m eye level with him. “I never claimed to be a good man,” I tell him, my voice low. “But I’ll always be a better man than you.”
Trevor lets his head fall, and I take his silence for the victory it is. Standing, I go to the utensil drawer, pulling out one last steak knife before returning to Trevor and plunging it down into his crotch.
He screams, his voice straining and body jerking, before he starts sobbing. “Please… please,” he begs. “Please.”
Going to the sink, I wash as much blood from my hands and forearms as I can. By the time I finish and have pulled on my jacket, Vin has brought the gas cans into the kitchen.
We douse the place, pouring a trail through the house before coming back to the kitchen and pouring the remaining over Trevor.
“No!” he yells, his body twisting wildly in a last ditch effort to save his life. “Please! Please!”
“Burn in hell, Trevor,” I tell him, before tossing the gas can aside and following Vin to the kitchen entrance.
Vin pulls a lighter from his pocket and hands it to me. My eyes don’t leave Trevor’s as I flick it open, igniting the flame and tossing it into the kitchen. Flames erupt, surrounding Trevor before meeting his body.
We leave the house, Trevor’s agonized wails of pain doing little to soothe the pit forming in my stomach as I think of going back to Riley.
We’re the same.
Flames dance in the kitchen windows. It’s only when we can no longer hear his cries and the entire house has caught fire that we make our way back to the truck.
Vin opens the passenger door up front, but I go straight for the back. “Move your seat up,” I tell him.
He slides his seat forward as far as he can, and I climb into the back with Riley, sitting on the floor with my legs straight out in front of me. She’s lying on her stomach, her hand resting on the seat in front of her face. I watch as her eyelids flutter, but they never open.
Hopefully, she sleeps the entire drive back. We have miles of rough mountain road ahead of us, and I don’t want her to feel the jarring of the vehicle. She’s weak, her skin so thin and sunken, I’m afraid it will break.
Grabbing her hand, I hold it in mine and lean back against the door. Once Jax finally puts some miles between us and the house, I let my eyes fall closed.
But Trevor’s words run through my mind on repeat.
We’re the same.