68 - Leonid
68
Leonid
—
Blood.
It’s everywhere, seeping into the snow, staining it a deep, dark red.
Rhett will bleed out eventually, but it’s not enough.
I want more. More blood. More pain.
We will drag this out and make every second a living hell for him.
The fillet knife is still buried in his shoulder. A dozen more knives stick out of his limbs, including four of Kody’s arrows.
We were careful to avoid vital organs and arteries.
I crouch beside him, my eyes locked on his. I glimpse the fear there, the plea for mercy.
Gross.
Rearing back my arm, I slam my fist into his eye socket.
He howls, blubbering and thrashing in the bear trap.
“I didn’t like the look on your face.” I shrug. “Couldn’t help myself.”
“I was…I was just trying to save you! To save all of you!” he cries.
“You can’t even save yourself.” Monty plucks the fillet knife from Rhett’s shoulder, making him cry harder. “Want the honors?” He offers it to Wolf.
“Does a bear shit in the woods?” He accepts the blade and kneels in the snow beside Rhett. “I think death by three hundred cuts is the right choice here. All in favor?”
“Why three hundred?” I ask.
“That’s how many days he kept me away from you.”
“Three hundred it is.” Monty unsheathes his knife.
Kody and I follow suit.
Together, we descend on Rhett, slowly, ruthlessly, our blades gleaming in the starlight as we count.
Seventy-five cuts for each of us.
We don’t hesitate. We don’t flinch. We sink our knives into Rhett’s flesh with excruciating slowness, dragging our blades across his skin, savoring every moment, every drop of blood that spills from the wounds.
We cut in tandem, extending his suffering, each slice going deeper and twisting harder than the last.
I make my incisions with a hacksaw motion, splitting skin and severing tendons.
Monty sticks him with plunging stabs, slow and methodical, pushing hard on his handle until he hits bone.
Kody focuses on the genitals. After cutting away the clothing, he castrates Rhett in pieces, taking his time, shortening Rhett’s flaccid penis one slice at a time. Then he works on the balls, piercing them like pin cushions.
Wolf is just as diabolical. He wields the fillet knife as designed, cutting thin slices of fragile meat. He flays Rhett’s flesh, peeling him with precision, layer by layer, and collects the pieces in a neat pile.
“You’re not keeping that, Buffalo Bill.” I meet his eyes.
“Tell that to Lorena Bobbitt over there.” He points his knife at Kody.
Then he goes back to cutting and counting.
Rhett writhes in pain, his vocal cords blown as he stares at us, trying to reach out with his good hand, grasping at nothing.
Begging is futile.
There’s no mercy to be found in the faces of those he wronged.
There’s no escape.
His screams ebb into whimpers, his body shaking with the effort to cling to life. But there’s no life left in him. Just pain. Just terror. Just the cold, hard truth that he’ll die here, in the place where he thought he could overpower us.
The relief that brings me borders on ecstasy.
As we near the three-hundredth cut, Rhett’s breaths huff in wet, gurgling gasps, his chest heaving with the effort to stay alive. He won’t live for long.
He’s bleeding out, his body a mangled mess of wounds as he chokes on his blood, trying to speak.
No sound comes.
“The final cut.” Monty meets Wolf’s stare. “It’s yours.”
Wolf leans over Rhett, his hand gripping the handle of the fillet knife as he sinks it into Rhett’s chest one last time, slowly, deliberately. The seconds tick by, and he continues to push that blade, millimeter by millimeter, while staring into Rhett’s eyes.
Rhett jerks, a final spasm, before falling still. His eyes stare up at the stars, but there’s nothing left in them.
We sit back and catch our breath.
There’s no triumph. No joy. Just the knowledge that we did what we came here to do.
We leave his remains for the wolves, knowing they’ll finish the job. Enough blood spilled in these hills tonight. It won’t take them long to find us.
Backing far enough away, we wait.
Within the hour, the wolves fall upon the pieces of his body, their howls echoing through the hills.
A fitting end for a man who thought he could kill us.
I turn to my brothers, Wolf, Kody, and Monty, and see darkness in their eyes, the same primal violence that burns in me.
We crossed a line tonight, became something else, something more than human. But we did it together, and we’ll carry this with us, this bond, this blood, for the rest of our lives.
We avenged Frankie.
It’s early morning when we return to the cabin and find her waiting on the porch with Oliver.
She takes one look at our blood-soaked appearances and grimaces. “Showers for everyone.”
We step into the cabin, bloodied, exhausted, and relieved.
The smell of death clings to the air, but it’s fainter now, not as overwhelming as before.
I exchange a look with Kody. He notices it, too.
Drawn by the need to confirm my senses, I veer toward the kitchen, expecting to see the grotesque dinner party Rhett left behind. But the kitchen is empty. The bodies are gone.
Oliver appears before us, his eyes flat, kind of scary. “I moved the corpses into the walk-in freezer.”
I blink, the answer almost too simple, too practical. He says it like it’s nothing, just another task he had to check off his list.
Who am I to judge?
I just hacked up a heart surgeon without hesitation or regret.
Kody and Wolf head upstairs to shower in our old bathroom.
“Monty.” Frankie brushes her fingers against his, drawing his attention. “Oliver wants to cash in his favor.”
That was quick. The Ghost doesn’t fuck around.
Monty stiffens, his brow furrowing as he turns to Oliver. “What do you want?”
“I want the cabin.” Oliver doesn’t smile, doesn’t even blink. “This cabin.”
“What for?” Monty’s eyes widen with surprise.
Oliver gives him a blank look, the same inscrutable expression he’s worn since we met him.
It’s unsettling, the way he can make even the simplest requests feel like something darker, something that should be questioned.
Monty glances at me, then back at Oliver, and there’s a sudden flash of worry in his eyes.
“Does that mean you’re no longer my chef?” he asks, his voice lighter, but there’s an edge to it. “No more Eggs Benedict?”
Silence.
Monty’s unease grows as Oliver remains expressionless, giving no indication one way or another.
There’s no negotiation here. Monty agreed to Oliver’s terms when he hired him. Now Monty must pay it.
“Monty.” Frankie’s tone carries a quiet authority that we all instinctively respond to. “I intended to scorch this place to the ground when we leave. Oliver wants the cabin and the second plane, too. He’ll stay behind and deal with the bodies.”
“You can fly a plane?” Monty cocks a brow at Oliver.
“I can do many things.”
He jumps out of planes, too. This dude has secrets.
“I have a bone to pick with you.” Monty steps into Oliver’s space.
“Interesting word choice,” I mumble.
“When you learned my real name was Montgomery Strakh, you were a fucking dick. Leo was convinced you spit in my food.”
“True.” I nod.
“How do you know I don’t spit in your food?” Oliver grins.
“Oliver…” Monty pinches the bridge of his nose. “You were pissed at me for not telling you my real name. Yet all this time, you kept your identity from me.”
“Oliver is my real identity. The Ghost is an alias.”
“Same difference.”
“Not the same at all.”
“Can you both forgive and forget?” Frankie anchors her hands on her hips. “It’s time to move on.”
Monty and Oliver incline their heads.
“The cabin is yours,” I say to Oliver. “My brothers and I want nothing to do with it.”
“We’ll leave you the extra plane under two conditions.” Monty steps back, returning to Frankie’s side. “Contact me every time you’re in town, so I know you’re not trapped here. And you will not use this place to imprison, harm, or kill innocents. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“Time for those showers.” Frankie takes my hand.
Monty motions her forward, and she leads him and me down the hallway.
It feels like she’s pulling me into a dark memory. The walls shiver, and the floors hum with whispers of everything that’s happened here.
The door at the end of the hallway looms ahead. Denver’s bedroom. We escaped this place. Fled for our lives. It doesn’t feel right to enter this domain again.
She pushes the door open, the creak of the hinges shuddering through me.
“This is his room?” Monty peers inside.
“Was.” She enters and flicks on the lights.
Lights that haven’t had power since before Denver died.
I hesitate, my eyes locked on the nest of bedding still piled near the hearth.
“Looks like Rhett only remodeled the main rooms.” She moves farther into the bedroom, her hand trailing along the mantle as she looks around, her expression unreadable.
Finally, she turns back to us, her eyes meeting Monty’s with a look filled with something I can’t quite name.
“Denver raped me in this room.” She points at the bedding on the floor. “I slept there with Leo and Kody during the darkest months of my life. We made good memories and bad ones.”
The tension in Monty’s posture matches mine. I have my own memories of what was done here. I know exactly what this room represents.
“This is where it stops.” She looks at both of us, her voice steady, resolute. “The pain, the abuse, the nightmares, it all stops here. We’re going to step into that shower and wash it off. Then we’re going to go home. We’re going to take our Wolf home and never look back.”
Without a word, Monty scoops her into his arms, his expression hard but his touch infinitely gentle as he cradles her against his chest.
The raw, unspoken need in the way he holds her is stunning. She’s the most precious thing in the world, and he knows it.
He carries her into the bathroom and lowers her feet to the floor.
The sound of water rushing through the pipes tells me Kody and Wolf are still using the upstairs shower.
I turn on the faucet, setting the temperature on a warm, comforting stream. The kind of warmth that washes away the cold and the dark.
But inside, I’m still burning, coiled tight with a fury I can’t shake. The bloodlust is still snarling and clawing, making it impossible to be anything other than rough.
Monty’s hands move with care as he unties her robe, peeling the fabric away from her skin.
I step in to help, my fingers brushing against his as we work together to remove the last barrier between her and the water.
The robe falls to the floor, and I swallow hard, my chest tight as I take in the sight of her. She was bruised. Drugged. Raped. But she’s still here, fighting.
Monty and I move in sync, shedding our clothes quickly, our eyes never leaving her.
My fingers are clumsy as I pull off my shirt, the fabric sticking to the dried blood smeared across my skin. I still feel the heat of the hunt, the violence we unleashed. It’s hard to let it go and soften the edges when every part of me remains out there in the hills, killing with a vengeance.
The water hits my skin, washing away the blood, the dirt, the sweat, but it doesn’t wash away the knowledge of what was done to her. I scrub at my skin, the movements harsh and punishing, as if I can force the darkness away and scrape off the layers of brutality.
Monty guides her under the spray, his touch so different from mine. Soothing, gentle, careful. He has that ability to be soft when the world is hard, to be calm when everything else is chaos. And right now, she needs that. She needs him.
Together, we wash the remnants of the assault from her body, rinsing away the violence that was forced upon her. I follow his lead, my touch firm but careful, doing what I can to help, even though I want to send my fists through the wall.
The water turns pink as it swirls down the drain, taking with it the stains of the night, but it doesn’t take away the memories. It doesn’t erase what was done to her, what she had to endure. But we do what we can. We clean her. We hold her. We let her know she’s not alone.
When we’re done, I grab a towel, wrapping it around my waist. Then I meet Monty’s eyes.
He knows me well and understands the war inside me. He also knows that Frankie needs more than just a shower.
She needs affection, reassurance, a loving touch. I can’t give her what she needs without fucking her into the wall.
Monty and I exchange a wordless understanding.
She sees it and nods. “You’re on the right track, but I’ll spell it out so we’re all clear. I need you to erase his touch. Remove it. Replace it with yours.” Her voice breaks, choked with emotion. “I need you inside me. Right now.”
I lean against the vanity as he turns and wraps her in his arms, pulling her close, his lips finding hers in a kiss that’s soft, tender, and flowing with love.
She melts, clinging to him as his hands move over her skin. With each touch, the tension in her body eases.
His lips trail over her cheeks, neck, and shoulders as if he can kiss away the bruises, the hurt, the memories.
He lifts her against the wall, his dick hard and ready. Then he makes love to her, gently, slowly, reminding her that she’s loved, that she’s safe, and that she’s everything to us.
They’re beautiful together, their bodies rocking beneath the cascade of water. The faint sounds of their breaths, the soft murmur of Monty’s voice as he whispers to her, it’s intimate, private, but not exclusive.
As they start to come, their eyes turn to me, inviting and wanting. I lean in and capture her mouth, kissing her as they climax together.
We find clean clothes we left behind in Denver’s old room. By the time we emerge, I can breathe again, my heart slowing, my mind starting to clear.
I’m ready to go home and put the hills behind us.
An hour later, we board the bush plane.
The engines hum with a steady vibration as I check the instruments one last time.
The sky is calm and dark with the onset of polar night. No snow. No wind. Monty assures me it’s safe for flying.
He sits beside me in the co-pilot’s seat, his hands steady as they move over the controls.
Behind us, the cabin is quiet, save for the soft sound of breathing and the occasional creak of the plane’s frame.
I glance back, checking on Frankie.
She grips the armrests tightly, but she’s managing. Her chest rises and falls in measured breaths as she uses her techniques to keep the panic at bay.
Kody checks her seat belt for the hundredth time, his fingers moving over the buckle with teasing flicks.
“Dude.” Wolf sighs. “The belt is latched.”
“He’s trying to get into my pants.” Frankie smirks despite the tension in her shoulders.
“He needs to work on his technique.”
Kody buckles himself in, his eyes never leaving her.
She’s strong, and she’s holding on. We all are.
Wolf returns his gaze to the window, his gaze distant, lost in thoughts I can’t imagine.
I know Rhett transported him in planes, but Wolf was never conscious for it.
This is different.
He’s here. He’s awake, and it’s all hitting him at once. The freedom, the reunion with his family, the introduction to his father, and the fact that he’s truly escaping.
I remember that feeling.
I turn back to the controls.
This is it. We’re finally leaving this place behind.
The engines roar to life, and the plane vibrates beneath us, eager to take off, to soar.
“Hey, Wolf.” I twist in the seat and find his blue eyes staring back. “Have you heard the fairy tale about the lion, the bear, and the drag queen?”
“Uh…Maybe?” His lips twist.
“Well, it turns out that lions can fly. Bears make mighty fine vodka, and the Magic Kingdom will no longer be without its queen.”
Wolf huffs out a laugh, and I turn back to the controls.
The plane lurches. The wheels bump over the terrain. Then we’re off, lifting into the air, leaving the ground behind, leaving Hoss behind.
The sky opens up before us, vast and endless.
We’re moving forward, together, as a family.