Chapter 22
Vienna
An eerie silence fell over the garage after Dante’s departure, only broken by Sam’s terrified breathing and the occasional drip of blood.
My own injuries were currently throbbing, reminding me that I was nowhere near healed—definitely not enough to be participating in this level of torture. But I pushed it to the back of my mind, focusing on the one person I was doing this for.
“Y-you don’t n-need to do th-this,” Sam panted. “We-we can come to an agreement.”
An agreement?
“You want an agreement?” I asked, raising one eyebrow at him.
“I’ll leave. I-I’ll tell the Riders to leave the Devils alone. Permanently.”
“You’d do that for me, Sam?”
He nodded, looking almost frantic.
“The thing is, I like the Riders coming after us. I like their squeals when we show them how foolish they were. And now that Gabby is back in my house where she belongs, I have everything I’ve ever needed. I don’t need any agreements.”
“No, please…”
I ignored him, drowning his words out.
Instead, I reached into my cut and pulled out the bottle of painkillers. Sam’s pleas grew quiet as he watched me.
The sound of them rattling was almost deafening in the quiet room, and Sam watched my every move, from unscrewing the lid to tipping two out and throwing them in my mouth, swallowing them dry.
“Vienna. You don’t need to do this,” he repeated.
“I know. I know that I don’t need to. I want to,” I shrugged back, finally looking at him.
Hacksaw had already done a number on him before we’d even arrived. There was a cut on his forehead, his eye was swollen and his lip split. Add that to the blood dripping down the side of his face, his pale skin and missing fingers, my man wasn’t in good shape.
“Pl—”
“Please what?” I snapped, rushing forward and bringing my face close to his. “Did you ever show Gabby mercy when she pleaded for you to stop?”
He somehow seemed to pale even further. I saw his throat bob as he swallowed heavily.
Because even when I had been on his compound, even when I had been willing to die, to follow Gabriella wherever her spirit went, I had never once lost my composure.
Now he was seeing me unleash.
“Did you hear her scream?” I demanded. “Did you hear her cries for mercy?”
“I didn’t… it was Nico—”
“You knew she was there. You woke up every morning knowing she was trapped in hell, and you did nothing to stop it.”
“I didn’t know how bad it was,” he promised, shaking his head frantically.
My fist connected with his jaw. The sound echoed out into the room, followed by his grunt of pain.
“You knew everything, Sam. Just like I know everything my president is up to. I’d have more respect for you if you just owned your shit.”
“Like I owned your pathetic ass the other night when I knocked you out cold?” he spat at me.
I just laughed. “Ahh, here he is. I wondered when you were going to drop the pretence. Come on,” I said cheerfully, grabbing him under his armpits and hauling him to his feet. “It’s time for you to leave.”
I let go of him, and he immediately crumbled to the floor, yelping in pain.
“Does that hurt?” I asked, watching as he tried to crawl away from me, rising onto his knees and keeping his feet up in the air.
“Do you think it hurt Gabby all the time Nico had her in this same position?”
I kicked at him, my foot connecting with his ribs, knocking him onto his side.
And then for good measure, I stomped on his ankle until he was writhing in pain, spit flying from his mouth, his hands pushing uselessly at my leg.
“You stood by her father and swore to protect her. And then the second he was gone, you stood by and listened to her cry and beg.”
I walked over to the garage door and pressed the switch. The door opened, making the alarms louder, and gestured outside.
“Go on,” I encouraged.
Sam got to his knees again and crawled to the opening, slipping on the blood pooling next to him.
“My patience is running out, Sam,” I said, keeping my tone light and pleasant.
As he continued crawling over to the door, I went over to Tools’s workstation and grabbed hold of his welding gun.
I plugged it in and changed the power regulator, moving it all the way to level five, and then examined it, seeing it already had half a welding rod in from the last use.
Still wearing my riding gloves so my hands were protected, I pulled on a pair of goggles and then turned the welding gun on.
The sound of the machine was deafening, and Sam visibly panicked in front of me, seeing me approach him with slow, measured steps.
At first, he attempted to pull himself to his feet, falling back to the floor when he remembered he couldn’t put any pressure on the balls of his feet thanks to the earlier snipping. Then he began to crawl, his hands slapping against the floor.
I laughed manically and followed him, holding the welding gun in front of me. Sam screamed as I got closer, feeling the heat from the gun, and then let out a soul-splitting, guttural roar as I pressed the gun to the bottom of his foot.
Sam screamed as the welding rod bit into his skin, the smell of burning flesh thickening the air between us.
Was this how she’d sounded?
Had anyone heard her?
Had she cried until her voice gave out, praying that someone—anyone—would open the fucking door?
I didn’t know, and I probably never would.
Michelle’s face flashed through my mind, and my jaw tightened.
I knew enough, and it was that thought that had me pressing the gun harder against him.
Sparks flew out, and the smell of burning flesh hit my nostrils. I coughed past it, shaking my head to rid the stench, and then applied the same treatment to his other foot.
“Stop!” Sam screamed, falling to his stomach, his feet jerking wildly.
“If you insist,” I said, letting go of the trigger.
And then I brought the welding gun to his temple.
“Run, Sam,” I hissed, bending down low to speak directly into his ear. He shivered at my cold tone. “Make my fucking day and run. I’m just getting fucking started.”
“Wait—”
I pulled the gun away and straightened.
“Run. Five, four, three…”