Rhett 37
RHETT
Toby’s truck skids to a stop in front of the slaughterhouse, tires screeching against the gravel. Before I can kill the ignition, Grandma Jo steps out of the building my grandfather built, her face creased with tension.
Not wasting a second, I jump from the cab before the others. My boots hit dirt, and I barely get the door shut before I bark, “Where is she?”
Jo must note the fear on my face, because she slows her steps and raises her palm. “Calm down, boy. She’s safe. They both are.” Her eyes flick over my shoulder toward Kade. “I sent ’em down to the main house to get some sleep. They’re exhausted, but they’re fine. You don’t need to be fretting.”
The breath I’ve been holding escapes my lungs in a single exhale. “Fuck. Thank you.”
Grandma Jo waves me off, but there’s a glint in her eye—pride or maybe something more feral. “Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, we’ve got bigger fish to fry.”
“Bring me to him.” My voice drops to a dangerous growl.
I can already feel my pulse shift as I pack what’s left of my morals away, knowing I’m not going to need them anytime soon.
Anticipation claws at my skin. Bradley Hemstock won’t leave this ranch alive, and there’s nothing that would ever make me feel bad about knowing I’ll be the reason why.
Grandma tips her head toward the building. “Follow me, boys.”
The moment we step inside, the air becomes cold, sterile, and damp.
It’s the kind of scent that settles under your skin, clinging to your spine like mildew in a crawl space.
The fluorescent lights above flicker, bathing the whole place in an unforgiving whitewash that is reminiscent of a horror movie.
Following Grandma Jo’s lead, we pass the hanging rails and hung cattle carcasses, down the center aisle to where she has Bradley tied up like a prized hog on auction day.
He’s not hanging from a hook—at least not yet—but he’s chained to a support beam with thick steel restraints.
His shirt’s soaked clean through, plastered to his skin, and there’s a hose coiled loose on the ground, still dripping.
“Goddamn,” Cole mutters, mouth twisting in disdain as he stares at the asshole.
Next to his twin, Jace whistles low. “Grams, looks like you’ve been busy.”
Bradley’s head jerks up when he realizes he has an audience.
That’s when I see his injuries. There’s a nasty open wound near his knee, blood trickling from his head, his lip is split, and one of his eyes is swollen.
Unfortunately, his mouth still works. “You crazy backwoods fucks better untie me!” he spits, teeth pink with blood.
“That wrinkly old Beth Dutton is a raging fucking lunatic!”
Grandma doesn’t even flinch at the insult, but I’m sure she’s heard worse in her sixty-something years on this planet. She just reaches for the hose we use to wash the walls down, lifts it, and flips the pressure valve without warning.
The water blasts straight into Bradley’s face, a deafening jet that hits hard enough to make him gag and sputter. He’s choking, unable to catch a breath, as he twists in the restraints and flounders like a drowned rat.
“Jesus,” Cole coughs through a laugh. “Grams, is waterboarding him really necessary?”
Her eyes snap to his, and she shrugs, shutting off the valve with an easy twist. “Well, if he’d learn to shut his trap, I wouldn’t have to make him.”
Behind me, Kade snorts. “Reason four thousand eight hundred and seventy-nine why I love this woman.”
Ignoring their chuckles, I take a few steps forward, standing square in front of the bastard who thought it wise to show up here.
My eyes narrow, gaze darkening to a dangerous glare as I stare him down while water drips from his chin and hits the tile with sharp little taps.
“You’d be smart to follow her orders and keep your fucking mouth shut.
Josephine Rivers doesn’t take kindly to disobedience. ”
Bradley’s eyes finally lock on mine. That smug sheen is gone now, replaced with something rawer. He recognizes the shift in the air, and he knows what’s coming. I’m going to kill him, and there’s not a goddamn thing he can do to stop me.
Spinning on my heel, I face my grandmother and nod once toward the door. “Thanks for holding down the fort. But I can take it from here.”
She acknowledges me with a dip of her chin, then reaches up and pats my cheek. “Do what you gotta do, baby. And remember, sometimes it’s perfectly acceptable to be the judge, jury, and executioner. Especially when the person on trial already reserved their seat in hell.”
I acknowledge her with a dip of my chin, then Cole and Jace move to either side of her, each offering an arm. “We’re gonna take care of Toby’s truck, and then we can start digging into this asshole’s digital footprint.” Cole smirks, gesturing toward Bradley.
“We’ll drop you off at the house on the way, Grams,” Jace offers, placing a hand at the base of her back to guide her toward the door.
“You boys have fun,” Grandma Jo calls as they head out.
When the steel door swings shut behind them, silence falls. Kade walks slowly to the far side of the room, leans back against a stainless steel workbench, and crosses his arms. He doesn’t say a word, just watches, knowing this is my rodeo.
Set on the approach I want to take, I grab a chair and drag it across the floor until the legs screech to a stop in front of Bradley. I sit backward, rest my arms on the rail, and lean in close—close enough to see the twitch in his jaw, and the way he’s trying to brace himself.
Reaching into my jacket pocket, I pull out something that started this whole goddamn thing in motion—Noah’s engagement and wedding rings.
I palm them between my fingers, then flick them, one after another, at his chest. They fall to the ground and ping against the tiled floor with a satisfying clink. “I think you lost those.” I tip my chin toward the diamond bands.
Bradley glares at me, eyes full of rage and bloodlust. “Fuck you, farm boy.”
Ignoring his retort, I continue, “Just so you’re aware, I fucked them right off her finger. And she enjoyed every second, judging by the way she moaned my name.”
His shoulders jerk against the chains, breath coming out in ugly, panicked pulls. “Noah Lane is mine. She belongs to me.”
“Wrong,” I state. “Noah was never yours. She was always mine.”
A hiss slithers past his lips, but I ignore him.
My eyes wander around the space, and I silently applaud my grandmother for her quick thinking.
This place was built to kill. White panels seal the walls from floor to ceiling, seamless and smooth, easy to scrub.
The tile beneath our boots slopes almost imperceptibly toward grated drains that feed into containment tanks buried under concrete.
Everything runs downhill here. Blood. Water. Guts.
Convenient.
Stainless steel gleams in every direction—hooks, rails, and benches laid out with the tools used to take an animal apart piece by piece.
Kade pushes off the workbench and strolls closer, hands in his pockets like we’re admiring livestock at the county fair. “Man,” he drawls, circling Bradley once, “you picked the worst possible place to throw a tantrum.”
Bradley lifts his head just enough to glare at him. “You think this ends well for you?” His voice shakes, but he tries to sound big. “I’ve got lawyers. Money. People—”
The chair legs scrape loudly when I stand and drag it back a foot. The sound makes him flinch, but I carry on, “Well, that’s your first mistake. What makes you think you’re going to live long enough to utilize any of those options?”
I step past him and stop beneath the overhead rail system. The block and tackle hangs there, a heavy chain looped through steel pulleys. I reach up and test the tension. “Second mistake,” I continue, glancing back at him, “was thinking you could walk onto my land and walk off it again.”
Kade grins. “The third mistake was threatening our women and thinking there wouldn’t be consequences.”
I unlock the restraints at the beam, and Bradley sags forward, legs barely holding him. He tries to twist away when we grab him but panic finally wins out. “Don’t! Don’t touch me!” he snarls, thrashing weakly.
Kade catches him by the shoulder and slams him chest-first into my grasp with a dull, meaty thud. “Easy.” His smirk widens. “You’ll get plenty of attention. No need to beg yet.”
I loop the chain around Bradley’s wrists, metal biting into skin already rubbed raw. He curses as he fights it, but it doesn’t make a difference. The hook slides home with a solid clank. I step to the winch and start cranking.
The chain tightens, jerking his arms upward as his boots scrape uselessly against the floor.
“Wait! Wait! Fuck, stop!” His voice cracks now, real fear leaking through. “Can we talk about this? I have money. How much do you want?”
I don’t look at him as I keep turning the handle. “That’s not the currency I deal in, Bradley. Much like my brother here, I prefer to collect my debts in a different way.”
The come-along whines, electric motor engaging, and Bradley’s feet leave the floor inch by inch. His whole body stretches, a strangled sound tearing out of his throat as the hook takes his weight. He hangs there, suspended, the drain directly beneath him.
Kade lets out a low whistle. “Torture looks good on you, buddy.”
Hands resting on my hips, I step back and finally meet Bradley’s eyes again. They’re wild with panic, tears gathering in the lash line. No bravado left.
“This is the part,” I tell him evenly, “where you start realizing how slow the rest of your life is going to feel.”
“And also how short.” Kade’s smile sharpens, grinning like a madman.
Done with listening to Bradley whine, I gesture to the far corner of the room, “Go grab the charge box and jumper cables.”
Bradley sucks in a breath so hard it stutters. “Cables?”
Kade turns toward the bench, already reaching for them. “Oh yeah,” he smirks over his shoulder. “You’re gonna love this.”
I pull the chair back into place and sit again, straddling it, settling in like I’ve got all the time in the world.
“Try not to pass out,” I tell Bradley calmly.
His breathing goes ragged, terror finally drowning out his anger as the room closes in around him.
Guy is shitting a brick, and we’re just getting started.
The pack hits the ground with a dull clatter, and Kade hands me the leads.
Bradley’s head jerks toward the sound like his body knows before his brain catches up.
His breathing turns shallow, sharp little gasps that scrape out of him like broken glass.
“What are th-those for?” He squirms, voice thin, hopeful in a way that makes my stomach curl.
Kade snorts. “Buddy, you don’t get to ask questions.”
“Here’s the thing, Brad,” I state calmly, turning back toward him. “You’ve spent your whole life thinking pain is something you can outsource. Something other people absorb so you don’t have to.” I stop directly in front of him. “Tonight, that bill comes due.”
He shakes his head, chains rattling. “You don’t have to do this!”
“Oh, but he really does.” Kade grins wider, eyes bright, practically vibrating with it. He loves this part—the moment right before the drop, when the fear finally outweighs the ego. “Round these parts, people always get what they deserve.”
I clip the first clamp in place, right between his dangling legs. “Let’s see you get a hard-on now, you pathetic piece of shit.”
Bradley’s screams bounce off the wall, filling me with satisfaction. “Please,” he blurts. “Rhett, please—”
I straighten and meet his eyes. “You don’t get to fuckin’ beg … not when she did, and you ignored her.” Tipping my chin, I give Kade the go-ahead. “Turn the dial.”
“With fuckin’ pleasure.”
The sound Bradley makes isn’t human. It rips out of him raw and uncontrolled, a full-body scream that echoes off the walls and rattles the hanging rails.
His back arches violently, chains snapping taut as electricity tears through him.
His head jerks back, throat straining as his voice shreds itself against the pain.
Kade watches like he’s front row at a show. “Holy shit,” he mutters. “That’s one helluva reaction.”
I count silently, dragging it out just like my grandma taught me. One … Mississippi. Two … Mississippi. Three … Mississippi. “Kill the current.”
Kade follows my command, but I can tell by the scrunch of his nose that he’s not happy about it.
With a jolt, Bradley sags, body shaking uncontrollably, breath coming in wet sobs.
His head lolls forward, and his chin hits his chest. I crouch in front of him, close enough that he can’t pretend I’m not real.
“Listen carefully,” I threaten, my voice steady yet conversational.
“This part isn’t punishment. Punishment implies an end.
” I tilt my head. “This is education.” His eyes flutter open, unfocused, terrified.
“You’re going to learn what it feels like when someone else controls every inch of your body.
Every breath. Every nerve.” I stand and step back.
“Just like you did. To my. Future. Wife.”
Kade comes closer, smiling right in Bradley’s face. “Strap in, little buddy. It’s gonna be a long fucking night.”
Never a truer word spoken.
A few hours later, the door slams open, and Cole and Jace rush into the room, laptop in hand, drawing my attention away from the bruised and exhausted rich prick I’ve nearly beaten to a pulp.
“Rhett. We found something.” Cole puffs like he ran the whole way here.
Jace’s face tightens, bracing for my reaction. “Fair warnin’, brother. It ain’t anything you’re gonna want to see.”