Savage Desires (Black Rose Doms Book 3)

Chapter 26

Kisten unlocks the cell doors,but not a single woman tries to exit. It”s not surprising, considering the consequences of doing that. Cutter stands outside one of the doors and tries to coax the woman inside out, but she doesn”t budge. I assume she”s new because she”s in Lucy and Stacia”s old cell and isn”t following orders immediately.

”They won”t trust that they”re safe,” I tell the men. ”Go guard the stairs or something while Georgie and I talk to them.”

I”m happy when no one argues with me. Kisten sends Tex and Zeke to the office to clear out any tech that would be useful and to look for a safe. Cutter parks himself between the cells and the hallway that leads to the shower room. He obviously doesn”t trust leaving any part of the area unguarded. Kisten stays on the other side of the hallway. Not that I”m surprised. I didn”t really expect him to let me out of his sight. He”s probably worried I”ll do something crazy.

It takes nearly twenty minutes to convince the women they are really being saved. There are new faces amongst the old. It makes me mad because they wasted no time replacing the ones they sent to the auction to be slaughtered. This is just more proof that we mean absolutely nothing but dollar signs to them.

”Okay, ladies, we”ll go upstairs through the back. Two vans are waiting to take you somewhere safe. There are three women and a man who looks scary like the other guys helping, but he”s a big softie. His name is Doc. If you have any injuries that need immediate attention, let him know, and he”ll get you fixed up.”

We lead the fifteen women up to the vans. Sissy immediately jumps into action. Her team moves like a well-oiled machine, helping the women into the vans. Doc notices one of the girls holding her side and wincing with every step. He slowly approaches her and talks softly, asking her if she”s hurt.

She nods, and he reassures her he”s a doctor and will ensure she gets the best medical care. Even though he looks every bit like the scary biker he is, he also has the kindest eyes and easily shows the women his softer side. She accepts his help into the van.

”Time to go, Georgie,” I say when she doesn”t move towards either van.

”I want to stay. I can help,” she says shakily.

”You need to get to safety. Remember what I told you about keeping yourself safe? This is exactly the opportunity I was talking about. I want you to take it.”

”Will I see you again?” she says tearfully.

I look at Kisten, and he nods.

”Yes, I”ll come see you when everything is sorted. Now go,” I say, gently pushing her towards the van Sissy is standing beside.

It takes less than five minutes for Sissy to load up the girls. She gives a little salute before driving away. I hope they make it to where they are going safely.

Tex and Zeke exit the building just as the taillights of the vans disappear into the night. They both have bulging duffle bags over their shoulders. ”Got everything cleared out of the office. Safe was easy to crack. Had several jump drives and stacks of cash.”

”Good. Put it in my SUV. There”s a hidden compartment in back that”s fireproof, so it”ll be safe there for now,” Kisten says, tossing Zeke the keys.

We”re heading back to the warehouse to wait for Gunner and T.J. to check-in. I”m trying not to worry because, admittedly, they had a bigger shitshow to walk into than we did, but I can”t help it as the minutes stretch on. When we get back to the warehouse and still haven”t heard from them, I”m low-key panicking for my friends.

”Maybe we should go check on them? They should”ve contacted us already, right?”

”Gunner or one of his guys would”ve contacted Hurley in the tech room if they needed more backup,” Kisten says reasonably.

”I forgot about Hurley,” I murmur.

”Just cut my heart out, why don”t you?” Hurley”s voice in my earpiece startles me. I forgot he”s been listening this whole time.

”Sorry, Hurley.”

”As if I could stay mad at our little warrior queen. Even though you”re probably going to get your ass busted for it later, you were very kickass tonight,” he says.

”How do you know?”

”The wizard never reveals his secrets.”

”Quit flirting with my woman,” Kisten complains.

”Sure, sure,” Hurley says.

I”m sitting on Kisten”s lap when his phone finally rings. I breathe a little easier when I see Gunner”s name on the screen. He answers on speakerphone so everyone can hear.

”Everyone good?” Kisten asks as a greeting.

”Five dead, one bullet that needs to be dug out by Doc, and half a dozen of ours with minor injuries,” Gunner says.

”Who died?” I ask, holding my breath to see if I lost any of my new friends today.

”Two of Jett”s men. Tommy, Kasen, and the bald guy switched sides, so they had to be dealt with.”

I”m sad for Mauve”s brother losing two men, but glad that it isn”t any of the guys I consider friends now. I almost feel bad about it, even though everyone knew what they signed up for. We got lucky at Mecca that there were only a few minor injuries.

”What about Nolan and his crew?” Kisten asks.

”He only had ten with him. The Italians scooped them up before they made it past the tree line. Nolan was hiding in his car like a little bitch. Emilio was pretty pleased with how easy it made it to capture him.”

”What a chicken. Talked such a big game and didn”t even have the balls to fight with his men,” I say disgustedly.

”After the Italians got the Irish out of the way, we moved in. It was a clusterfuck. Over thirty men were waiting to defend the mansion. Several Russians, but the rest seemed to be paid security that had shit training. Duke, Trevor, Cash, and some of Jett”s men went downstairs to where the girls were being held while the rest of us dealt with the upper floors. There were a couple men who hid upstairs once the fighting started. Didn”t end well for them.

”We managed to keep three Russians alive for you. Not sure if two of them will be worth anything because they were sent in like cannon fodder, but the third man was the guy leading the group,” Gunner says.

”Excellent, take them to Down Street. We”ll meet you there,” Kisten says.

”Did the women get out safely?”

Gunner sighs. ”Barely. That crazy woman fucking blew the mansion up when the last girl was barely twenty feet away from it. The explosion is where most of our guy”s minor injuries came from.”

”Hera blew up the mansion?” I ask.

”Yes. There”s nothing left. Whoever taught her how to rig up a building should be proud,” he grumbles.

”She”s a fucking menace. She knew we needed to dig for any information to ensure no one else was involved and to drain their accounts.” Kisten sounds less than pleased, so I lean into him a little more, tracing circles on the back of his neck to distract him.

”Don”t get your panties in a twist. I cleared everything out before I blew the place. You act like I”m some kind of amateur,” Hera says, strolling into the room like she has zero worries. She takes a massive bite of watermelon, and juice drips down her chin. She hops up on the table in front of us, taking her normal cross-legged position. She has a whole fucking watermelon that she sits in her lap. She cuts another piece and offers it to me without a word. I have no idea where she got a watermelon, but it smells delicious, so I take the fruit from her.

”How many women were there?” Kisten asks.

”Thirty-two. We had to send some of them with our guys in the SUVs because we didn”t have enough room in the transport vehicles. One of the women said they were gearing up for another auction so about ten of them were being held for that. They were locked in a different room. They”re young, too,” Gunner growls.

”How young?” I ask even though I don”t want to know.

”I didn”t ask, but if I had to guess, I”d say they range from twelve to sixteen.”

My eyes burn with tears, but I don”t let them fall. Kisten rubs a soothing palm down my back.

”We got them out, love. We”ll keep them safe,” he promises.

I swallow thickly and nod.

”So when do we get to play with Gunner”s Russian pets?” Hera asks around a mouthful of watermelon.

”Right now,” Kisten growls.

”We”re about twenty minutes out,” Gunner says, then cuts the call.

Hera hops down from the table and leads the way to the exit. Cutter and Shawn follow. I”m pretty sure Gunner told Cutter to keep me safe no matter what because he”s not taken his eyes off me since we entered the basement at Mecca. I know Kisten and Shawn came to some manly agreement that I need to be protected, and since Shawn is the best in his group, he decided he”s the only one qualified to play bodyguard.

I”d maybe be offended if I didn”t like the big oafs so much. I know they respect my ability to handle myself, so it”s more sweet than offensive. Now, if they acted like I”m an incapable, fragile little flower? I would have to shoot them somewhere non-lethal to make sure they learned the error of their ways.

Hera approaches a matte black motorcycle that looks like sex on wheels. It”s so perfectly Hera. She puts on an all-black helmet that covers her whole face, making her look completely anonymous, and revs the engine. She wiggles her fingers at me before gunning it out of the parking area and down the street. By the time we”re pulling onto the street, her taillight is out of sight. Wonder if Kisten will let me have one of those? I”ll have to ask.

I”m lost in my thoughts of those young girls who were ripped from their homes and could”ve lived the same life I did if we hadn”t saved them. I decide then and there that I want to continue saving girls from living the same fate as me. I”m not sure how Kisten will react to that. Pretty sure he only agreed to let me do this today because I have a personal vendetta against these fuckers. I”ll just have to convince him. If he won”t listen, I bet Hera would help me. She likes to defy authority.

We pull into a neighborhood that looks like the world”s forgotten about it. Every house is rundown, most yards are overrun, driveways are cracked with vehicles that are obviously broken down, and there”s trash on the street. The random kids” toys among the garbage and unkept lawns make my heart hurt. Knowing children are living in squalor like this makes me sad.

It makes me wonder what happened for the people in this neighborhood end up here. Circumstances or bad choices? How many are good people struggling to make ends meet, and this is the best they can do? It”s sad to think that there are likely hard-working people mixed in with druggies and dealers living in a dangerous neighborhood because it”s all they can afford.

I close my eyes and sigh. Kisten puts his hand on my thigh and squeezes lightly. I slide my hand under his and lace our fingers together. I don”t open my eyes again until we stop in front of a house that looks moments away from falling down. There”s already a black SUV backed into the driveway that matches ours, and Hera”s motorcycle is parked haphazardly in the barren yard.

Kisten shuts off the engine. ”Wait for me to get you,” he says before opening his door.

He doesn”t open my door until Cutter and Shawn stand beside him. Their heads are on a swivel, constantly checking our surroundings. It puts me on edge. Obviously, this is a dangerous neighborhood, but that wouldn”t make them this level of cautious. They”re looking for signs of an ambush.

They quickly guide me into the rundown house, which is somehow even shittier on the inside than the outside. It smells like rotten wood, a lifetime of cigarette smoke, and the distinct metallic scent of blood.

”Stay up here with Cutter and Shawn,” Kisten says.

I narrow my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. ”No. I”m in this until the end. I won”t be left behind.”

His jaw ticks with frustration. ”Do you know what”s about to happen?”

I bark a laugh. ”Yep, we”re going to go down those stairs into the horror movie-quality basement and nicely ask three Russian assholes about their little side hustle.”

Cutter barely manages to cover his laughter with a cough. I smirk at him because I appreciate that he recognizes how silly it is to make me wait up here like a good little girl when, just less than two hours ago, I killed seven men without flinching. I understand that Kisten wants to protect me, but I don”t need protection from this. I asked for this. I want to see these fuckers suffer. So, no, I won”t be sitting this out.

Kisten must see how resolute I am because a resigned look enters his eyes. ”Fine, but if it gets to be too much, I”ll have Cutter and Shawn drag you out of there.”

”Deal. Now, let”s go ask our questions before Hera accidentally kills them all,” I say.

Hera laughs from behind me, making me jump. ”I never kill on accident. If I make you dead, it was intentional.”

”I”m going to put a fucking bell on you like a cat if you keep sneaking up on me,” I bark.

”Kinky.”

Hera leads the way to the basement. It”s way worse than you would see in a horror movie. The three men are hanging from the ceiling by their arms. They”ve been stripped down to just their underwear and appear unconscious. The floor under the men is stained with old blood… in fact, there are blood stains everywhere. The only things down here are an ancient water heater, a furnace that looks like a fire hazard, and a table. I step closer to the table and see there are dozens of tools that have obviously been used for previous conversations.

I should probably be disgusted by what I see, but I”m not. I”ve seen and been through too much to be squeamish about this. I”ve been tied up in rooms with similar tools, only they were pristine, and the men wielding them were using them for sexual gratification. This is much more palatable.

Hera circles the men singing the eenie meenie miney mo song. She stops in front of the man on the left in white tighty whities. ”This one is mine.”

”Don”t kill him too fast. We need information,” Kisten says, reminding her of our purpose. He flips a light switch, and the basement is thrown into darkness except for the table of weapons and the men chained to the ceiling. We can see them, but they won”t be able to see us. It”s like the curtain has been drawn on a real-life macabre theater performance.

”Slow is more fun anyways,” she says, then grabs both the man”s nipples and gives him a purple nurple so hard I half expect her to pull his nipples off with her bare hands. The man comes to screaming. ”Good morning, sleepyhead.”

It takes him a moment to figure out where he is and that he”s chained to the ceiling in the death basement. ”What the fuck?!” he yells. ”Why am I here?”

”No need to yell. So rude. You”re here because you”ve been a naughty boy. Santa is very disappointed,” she tsks.

”Let me go, bitch,” he snarls.

”Sticks and stones. Let”s start with an easy question. Who do you work for?”

”Fuck you,” he says and spits at her.

She steps out of the way before it hits her like she expected it. She gives him a disappointed look and turns towards the table. She shoots me a wink before picking up a wicked-looking knife. She holds it up in front of him, and the part not already covered in dried blood glints in the light. She holds the knife to his throat, and the man loses a little of his bravado but doesn”t say anything. She trails the flat of the blade down his chest slowly. In a move so fast I almost miss it, she turns the knife and cuts off his nipple. It falls to the ground with a splat a second before the man screams.

While he”s screaming bloody murder, she picks up his nipple by the tip and spins in her fingers. When he finally stops screaming, she holds it up so he can see his own nipple, then slaps it to his cheek, where it sticks like it was suction cupped to his face. Pretty sure she”s done that before.

”Now that we”ve made friends, tell me who you work for,” she orders.

”Fuck you,” he says again, but with less bravado.

In another lightning-quick move, she removes his other nipple. She doesn”t wait for him to stop screaming to slap it to his other cheek. This time, when she asks who he works for, he tells her. In fact, he becomes quite compliant after that. Unfortunately, he seems to be a low-level grunt who knows nothing useful. Since it”s impossible to know if he”s lying, she has to get creative when she asks again… and again… until she”s satisfied he”s being truthful.

She looks at Kisten, and he gives her a nod. She smiles like she was just given the best gift ever before turning back to the man and slitting his throat. It takes seconds for him to bleed out. Hera bends down and starts picking through the fingers she cut off like she”s trying to find treasure. When she finds the one she”s looking for, she stands and puts it in her pocket.

”What the fuck are you keeping his finger for?” Cutter asks, sounding horrified.

”All the best serial killers take trophies.”

”Jesus Christ.”

”Why not a nipple?” I ask.

”He had ugly nipples, but look at this finger!” she pulls it out of her pocket and holds it up to her face just under her nose.

It takes me a second to see why the finger is a worthy trophy, and when I do, I can”t hold back my laughter. In fact, I don”t even try. The finger has a fucking mustache tattooed on it. If you would”ve told me a week ago that I”d be standing in a basement of horrors laughing my ass off at my sociopathic friend holding a severed finger to her face, I never would”ve believed it.

Hell, I”m living it, and I almost don”t believe it.

”That”s fucked. You”re totally fucked,” Cutter says.

”Are you done being children? We have work to do,” Kisten barks.

I wipe the tears from my cheeks and choke back my laughter. Nearly losing it again when Hera starts mocking him with the finger still in place. Kisten would probably murder her if he saw. Good thing he”s behind her, waking up our second guest.

I ask how they managed to stay unconscious through the other guy”s screams. Turns out, if given a mild dose of certain sedatives, you can be knocked unconscious and woken up if given enough pain. Very useful if you don”t want to wait for someone to wake up on their own.

Watching Kisten question the second man is a little disconcerting. Seeing the man who touches me so gently with his hands use them for something so violent is hard to reconcile. Hera tortured her man with theatric flair… Kisten is all business. He knows exactly what to do to make his guy talk. Pretty sure the man would give up his balls to get Kisten to stop the torture. When he”s extracted everything he can from the guy, he shoots him cleanly in the head.

The sedative must be wearing off because the gunshot woke the third man up. He raises his head, and I get my first look at his face. It”s someone I know well from Mecca. Oleg was a guard until about six months ago. He killed one of the top-earning girls while sampling the merchandise. I assumed they”d killed him, but apparently, he was only reassigned. I remember hearing at one point that he”s someone important to the boss, which would explain why he”s not dead.

I clench my fists and step towards him. His eyes land on me and widen. ”Do you recognize me, Oleg?”

”Shlyukha,” he says with a smirk as if his insult means anything.

”Whores are paid for what they do,” I say coldly.

I study the tools on the table before selecting a wicked-looking clamp. I can feel eyes on me, but no one says anything. Kisten is standing behind the man, silently watching and waiting. I didn”t plan to participate in this endeavor, but I also didn”t expect to see one of the men I”ve dreamed of killing either.

I stand in front of Oleg, contemplating if I can really torture a man. I hesitate long enough that he starts thinking I won”t do it. He laughs and calls me a weak whore in Russian. I yank his underwear down so his flaccid dick is hanging out. A dick that he used to brutalize me and countless other women.

”Want another ride, shlyukha? I knew you loved this cock. You screamed so prettily when I fucked your ass raw,” he says, licking his lips.

I look down at his dick, and the bastard is getting hard thinking about raping me. It”s then that I realize I can one hundred percent torture a man. Especially a piece of shit like Oleg. I show the clamp to him. Opening and closing it so he can see the serrated teeth.

”What are you going to do with that, rabynya?”

”I”m going to show you what it means to be a rabynya, Oleg.”

”Do your worst. I”m no slave,” he spits.

”See, that”s where you”re wrong. You”re here against your will. You are chained up. You have no option to say no. I can do whatever the fuck I want to you, and all you can do is take what I give you. You were so very giving with me, Oleg. It”s only fair that I pay you the same courtesy.”

I feel Kisten”s eyes on me. He”s quietly moved to the side but is still out of Oleg”s line of sight. He”s looking at me with concern. I love him so damn much for worrying about me. It”s unnecessary in this case. I know I can do this and still sleep at night with zero guilt. Oleg is evil and has earned everything he”s about to get.

Before Oleg can respond, I open the clamp and hold it over his dick, which isn”t as hard as it was a moment ago. Apparently, being a slave isn”t so appealing when you”re the one on the other side. I stare him in the eye as I release the clamp at the base of his dick. I relish the flash of pain in his eyes, and his screams are music to my ears. I wait patiently for him to stop shrieking.

”You like that, rabynya? You scream like a slut when I play with your dick. Such a good little shlyukha. Tell me how much you want it.”

His eyes are glazed with pain as I repeat the exact words he said to me all the times he raped me. I grip the clamp and release the pressure slightly. Oleg mistakenly thinks I”m going to remove it because he takes a shuddering breath of relief. He”s about to be very disappointed. I twist my wrist, making the teeth of the clamp rotate around his dick before letting it snap back in place.

This time, when his screams die down, he”s crying and blubbering. If torturing a man for information was a competition, I”m pretty sure I won tonight”s round.

”Who do you work for?” I ask.

”Yuri Ivanov,” he answers without hesitation. Yep, definitely the winner of the information-gathering contest.

”Why are you important to Yuri?”

He looks momentarily surprised by my question but answers when my hand twitches towards the clamp. ”He”s my uncle.”

I look at Kisten to gauge if I”m on the right track, and he nods in approval.

”Who tipped you off about us raiding Mecca and the mansion?”

”That Irish bastard. Didn”t even have the fucking balls to show up. Irish trash.”

I laugh. ”He was a little indisposed. Does Seamus know what Nolan was up to?”

”No,” he says quickly, making me question his truthfulness.

I tap on the clamp with my finger, making it bounce a little, and Oleg whimpers. ”I would hate to think you might be dishonest with your answers.”

”Seamus would never. He hates Yuri. Bad blood.”

”Thank you. See how nice it is when you answer clearly?”

He nods rapidly, making me giggle. I”m pretty sure everyone in the room thinks I”ve come unhinged. Well, maybe not Hera. She”s probably giddy with excitement at my technique.

I continue asking the same questions Hera and Kisten asked. Oleg is a lot more knowledgeable. I”ve exhausted all but one of my questions, only having to tap on the clamp a few times to get my answers.

”Is there anyone else working with Yuri?”

He”s quick to shake his head and say no. I can tell by the shifty look in his eyes he”s lying. I grab the clamp and turn it without loosening it. I wrinkle my nose as his skin tears where the teeth are digging into his flesh. Oleg is crying out from pain, but his voice is hoarse from his previous screams.

”Try that again, Oleg. Don”t fucking lie to me.”

”Fuck! Okay, okay! Yuri made a deal with the Italians.”

I frown. ”Yuri made deals with both the Irish and the Italians?”

”The sons. Nolan Byrne and Damon Savada. They plan to double-cross their fathers and steal their thrones.”

Kisten steps up beside me, making Oleg flinch. ”Why would Yuri do that?”

”Greed. My uncle wants more power. Having alliances with both families will strengthen his hold on the city. They are imbeciles. Yuri will manipulate every move they make. If they prove useless, he”ll just take them out and replace them with someone more amendable.”

”Where are they?” Kisten asks.

Oleg hesitates. I hit the clamp, making him cry out.

”Just because my man is asking the questions doesn”t mean you”re not still my rabynya. I own you, Oleg,” I say coldly.

”Yuri”s compound. Everyone that wasn”t at the mansion or Mecca are protecting the compound. Damon and Larissa are with him.”

”Who is Larissa, and why is she important?” Kisten asks.

”She”s Yuri”s illegitimate daughter. She”s in charge of Mecca.”

”Madame,” I say the name like a curse.

Oleg nods.

”Is there anything else we should know?” Kisten asks.

”Nothing…”

”Are you sure? Your response will determine if you die quickly or screaming for mercy,” Kisten says.

”I told you everything I know. I have no reason to lie. I”m already dead.”

”Not quite yet, rabynya.” I smile at his confused expression, and he blanches when he realizes I”m not done with him yet.

”Just kill me! I told you everything!” he says desperately.

”Too bad you”re a slave, and what happens to you isn”t your choice. It”s mine,” I say coldly.

I reach for the clamp, and Oleg starts shaking his head, repeating ”no” over and over. I grab the clamp and yank. His flesh tears away like paper. Oleg makes an ungodly sound before passing out. When I drop the clamp, his dick is in shreds, part of it still in the jaws of the clamp.

Kisten stares at me with a mixture of pride and horror if there is such a thing. I stand on my tippy toes and kiss his cheek. ”Finish him for me, my love.”

Hera skips up to me, clapping. ”Excellent show! I”m so proud. You”ll make the most prolific serial killers list in no time!”

A single gunshot sounds behind me, and seconds later, Kisten wraps his arms around me. I relax back into him.

”Now what?” I ask.

”I hear the Russians are throwing a party tonight. We should crash.” Hera says, then heads to the stairs. ”Oh! Don”t forget your trophy!”

”Jesus fucking Christ,” Cutter mutters.

”You”re not taking a shredded dick home with you,” Kisten says.

”There”s only one dick I want at home,” I reply.

I should probably walk away without taking anything of Olegs. It feels sort of like the line that will make my serial killer dreams a reality, but I also kind of want a reminder of what I did here tonight. I feel powerful. I”m not the rabynya anymore. I”m free. I own myself now, and I can do whatever the fuck I want to do.

Oleg wears a ring. It hurt like hell when he backhanded you with that on. I approach Oleg”s body and grab his hand. I hesitate momentarily before sliding the ring off his finger and sticking it in my pocket. It”s not a finger with a mustache tattooed to it, but this is a memorable trophy just the same.