Chapter 9 Brax
Brax
Asmile curls on my face as I watch Talia run in the direction of the most twisted of the fucks I’ve ever encountered.
Fredrick Anthony Rogers had to be dropped on his head on numerous occasions as a child. The things he’s into—
My grin melts into disgust as I have no words.
Every victim of his, guilty or innocent, meets a demise that I wouldn’t use on my fiercest enemy.
Images of my sister’s body, mutilated beyond identification after Mikah hunted her down so savagely.
Acid roils in my gut as I recount all the words in the reports.
Dead body—
Raped...
Branding iron…
—Battered—bruised—broken.
Rage runs rampant through my veins, rising to a fever pitch on the precipice of ruin.
What Fredrick did to my sister’s dead body has earned him a spot nearly at the top of my list. Second only to Mikah.
It’s why this game with my little fox is even more intriguing.
Who doesn’t enjoy hunting the hunter—who doesn’t like turning the predator into prey?
Frowning, I wonder if I should follow her.
What if something happens to her?
The question assaults me as indecision wars in my chest.
Talia is one of the best assassins in the world—one of the Deadly Seven.
If I go, she may see my assistance as an insult to her capabilities.
“That’s right bitch, stay still,” one of these fuckheads grunts so loudly that I’m sure all of Vermont can hear.
Whoever it is has a zero-stroke game. They fuck like they’ve never had pussy or dick in their whole life.
“Fuck,” they roar. “You cunt!”
Screams ricochet off tree trunks before I hear the sound of twigs snapping as someone runs.
“No. Stop. Let me the fuck go,” a shrill cry rips into the night sky before another thud. Expletives and heaving breaths quickly follow it.
Sliding behind the nearest tree, I wait to see which asshole steps into the clearing. As the pounding of feet against the ground draws nearer, I ready my sword.
My fingers tingle, itching to savor the kill, making it painful and slow, leaving behind no soul to reincarnate into the next life. The thought so real I can almost taste the blood in the air. But the need to ensure Talia’s safety tapers the urge until it’s a low, steady hum nestled in my chest.
A quick slice and dice before I find Talia. I certainly won’t earn any points for creativity.
“When I catch you, I’m going to fillet you and let Freddy fricassee you for dinner.”
Jackson.
He’s the Tweedledee to Fredrick’s Tweedledum—both feeding into each other’s depravity. A really fucking sick duo. Mikah and Griff are fucked too, but Jackson Wallace and Fredrick Rogers belong in someone’s supermax prison.
Another branch snaps, and I sure up my grip, readying myself to pounce, but it’s a tall, curvy brunette who stumbles on wobbly legs, falling with an audible oof muttered across her swollen lips.
She springs up from the ground, her body covered in bruises and blood, with one arm hanging limply—very obviously dislocated, more than likely broken with the twisted set of her shoulder. She takes another haggard step, inhaling with laborious breaths that rattle wet.
I tsk, observing her movements. I’m surprised she’s made it as far as she has. Fresh burns litter her back like someone was trying to make her a chessboard, and patches of her hair appear ripped out from the root.
“Fucking animals,” I mumble barely above a whisper in the wind.
She’s a fucking fighter, I’ll give her that.
Her body sways as she tries to steady herself before she fumbles along. She barely makes it a few steps, but the weight of her injuries brings her to a halt. Her body bounces off the tree with a thwack that is immediately followed by a snapping of bone.
Cringing, I shake my head at the sight of a portion of her femur protruding through her skin.
She’s not making it out of here.
She wails, pounding the ground in obvious frustration over the dire straits of her situation, when Jackson barrels out of the forest.
“There you are, you stupid bitch,” he hisses.
Storming over, he yanks her up by her hair and tosses her against the tree trunk. He’s over her prone form before it can hit the dirt properly.
“Leasshve meesh aslone,” she slurs, shocking me that she can even speak, let alone still have such a fire in her voice. And I once again find myself disappointed that a strong spirit will die at the hands of monsters.
Backhanding her, Jackson rips her legs open, slamming into her pussy as he spits in her face.
Fucking coward.
I realize the irony in my unspoken words, but I never claimed to be a saint or a superhero.
I am unfazed by the scene before my eyes.
The brutality is only menacing because of who it is, what they did to my sister, and the threat they pose to Talia.
In any other situation, I would be the villain—I am the villain.
Combinations of grunts, groans, and pained whimpers compete with the slapping skin. I was right to be unimpressed. Jackson fucks like a sledgehammer trying to nail glass picture frames to a wall. But he’s engrossed, not even hearing Mikah shout through their comms.
Ever the opportunist, I slink from where I’m hiding, positioning myself to strike.
Jackson is so focused on fucking the half-dead woman—his grunts and groans drowning out the echoing silence—he doesn’t even see me coming.
But she does.
Her eyes widen before quickly reverting to a look of passion and fear as she subtly urges me on, begging to help end her suffering. I nod, obliging her request, hoping in her next life she never encounters the evil she had to endure in this one.
Raising my sword, I prepare to swing.