Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
ANSEL
“Now that they’re gone, I can worry less about the smoke,” I muse. “Bellamy grab the smoke mask or I’ll have to send you up too.”
“Smoke…Do you do this a lot?” he asks, walking with Cassidy to wash his hands while she grabs the respirator gas mask.
Shiloh grunts in agreement as he adds a squirt of lighter fluid to the papers he shoved up in the enlarged hole he made after we cut off Clyde’s cock.
“Did your mama never teach you not to touch things that don’t belong to you?” he asks. “It doesn’t matter if they’re being explicitly sold to you, if the girl is crying, that doesn’t imply consent.”
Bellamy comes back with a bat and a fitted gas mask, his eyes pinched in anger. He was holding back for Winter, but the gloves are coming off. The smoke isn’t terrible, but Bellamy doesn’t need that shit in his lungs.
Pulling the aluminum bat back, he swings hard, perfectly catching Clyde’s head. He is careful to make sure all the blows land on the alpha’s head, shoulders, and upper body, while Shi keeps Clyde from moving. I step back and watch as Bellamy works that out of his system.
We all feel the importance of making this asshole pay, regardless of our unhinged comments. That’s simply how we cope. Cassidy blinks rapidly in a way that has nothing to do with the smoke, watching as Bellamy screams out his grief and anger.
He’s Winter’s protector, and I have a feeling there’s been a lot he couldn’t save her from. This dickhead hanging from our ceiling is just one of many things. Clyde is a human candle, burning for his sins, while Bellamy beats the fuck out of him.
This feels karmic.
It also leaves me concerned. Glancing at Shi, he nods as he holds Clyde still. The burning alpha will die at some point, but I think dying with crispy insides is poetic in a sense. It’s the ultimate form of fuck around and find out.
We’re going to need to pull the list of people who have frequented The Hug Project. I bet Cassidy is one of the only people who went there who didn’t buy into the thought that one sin would lead them down the slippery slope of bad decisions.
I need to consult with Abbott. Maybe the frequent flyers will need to be cleansed from the city. I don’t even feel bad about it. If you go back to a place like that, you already know it’s a shady business.
You don’t deserve a second chance. Cassidy never would have gone back there, nor would she have entered if she fully understood the situation.
Thank god she did, or Bellamy and Winter would still be in that hell hole.
Our men will gladly accept the challenge of being our executioners. Cassidy mentioned to me that it’s been too damn quiet and she’s right. I don’t fucking want anyone who’s ever hurt my omegas to live another moment.
Who lives or dies is completely up to Abbott.
Bellamy screams as he throws the bat across the room, and Cassidy sighs as we realize that Clyde has given up the ghost.
There’s blood speckled on Bellamy’s shirt and neck, and he drops his hands to his sides as he stares at the dead alpha.
Clyde is missing fingers, toes, his dick, knot, and dignity.
Tape is still keeping his mouth shut, but only because we used tape from his upper lip to his chin. There was no way that was coming loose.
He’s going to finish burning, and then we’ll take the charred remains to a pig farm we slide money to for the use of it. Our problems disappear, and the swine are well fed.
It’s the perfect partnership.
“Are you upset he’s dead?” I ask.
Sometimes, that happens. It’s never enough, the pain is simply too large to bear.
“Kind of,” Bellamy admits, his voice muffled by the mask. “I’m a little worried this will keep happening.”
“I’m going to discuss that with Abbott. The Hug Project didn’t have an obscenely large client list,” I say. “We’re going to send our men to kill them all. I never want to have our time interrupted by some knuckle dragging cavemen who believes you’re free game.”
“So they’re all going to die?” he asks.
“Maybe not as spectacularly as Clyde, but yes,” I say, smirking at the smoking body in front of me. “We should back up, or we’ll smell like human barbecue.”
“That’s disgusting,” Bellamy says, though there’s amusement in his voice.
“It really is,” I snort. “Our men are loyal, and they despise people like this. They’ll make sure to do the job right. If we weren’t pretending to be good people, I’d send a calling card to all sex traffickers thinking about moving into our city. Alas, it sucks to be in hiding.”
“I think you’re good people,” Bellamy mumbles, far enough away to pull off the mask. The fire has banked, and the smoke isn’t as bad as it was. “There are plenty of people who think they’re good and allow horrible things to happen. Good is relative. Um. Where’s Winter?”
“Upstairs probably with Abbott,” Cassidy says. “She looked sleepy.”
“She’s making me yawn,” Bellamy says, rolling his eyes.
“Go take a shower and nap with them?” I suggest. “First, we need a selfie. Can we call this our official bid to court you?”
“A what?” Bellamy is looking at me like I’m insane.
“Something tells us you need more than flowers and romance,” Shiloh says, coming closer.
“Winter came apart to the sounds of torture, and quite beautifully, I might add. Trauma has a way of recircuiting your brain. Don’t get me wrong, there will still be romance, but there will also be a murder list.”
Bellamy grins as he nods.”I can probably help with the murder list as long as I don’t have to talk about why they’re on it,” he admits.
“Perfect,” Shiloh says, pulling off his gloves and tossing them in the garbage. “Let’s take this photo, and then you can leave us with Clyde.”
“Are we doing smiles or middle fingers?” I ask moving into position.
“Have you done this before?” Bellamy asks, laughing as Shiloh votes for a middle finger salute.
“Only to send it to Abbott when he can’t come play with us,” I explain.
The four of us smile wide and flick off the camera as Shiloh takes the photo.
“Perfect,” I decide as I see it. Our pack would make murderous memories.
“I’ll walk you upstairs,” Cassidy says, washing her hands and drying them quickly.
Bellamy wraps his arm around her waist without thinking as they walk, and Shiloh grins at me, watching as they disappear across the house.
“It might be coming together slowly, but it’s happening,” he says. “Whether it be baby steps or leaps and bounds, all that matters is that Bellamy, Cass, and Winter are happy.”
I grunt in agreement, knowing he’s right before grabbing a chair to let Clyde’s hunk of flesh finish burning. The alpha is going to continue to be a pain in the ass right up until the pigs are grinding down their bones.
It would figure.
ABBOTT
A murder spree to exterminate the scourge on our city sounds like the perfect way to welcome our omegas to Savannah. If they aren’t safe, then there’s no way they can feel welcome, right?
Yeah, that’s the kind of logic I enjoy too.
Walking up the stairs to their nest, I wonder what they’re up to. They’ve been scarce the last three days. Neither of them seemed very affected by the torture and murder in our basement, and they both provided Shiloh with new people to add to his murder list during dinner.
They mentioned they had to work on the nest, and that made me a little concerned. Are they nesting in preparation for their heat? Is there a reason they feel as if it has to get done?
There have been a lot of deliveries over the last few days, and we’ve dutifully walked them up to the nest. I have absolutely no idea what to expect when I get to the top of the stairs.
“Knock, knock,” I say, rapping my knuckles on the wall. There’s no door to the nest since the entire attic is their domain.
We don’t hoard shit, so the attic has always been pretty clear of boxes and such. We always knew one day, we’d find an omega.
Instead, Fate found us two.
Looking around, I find that I can’t find either of them at the moment.
The attic is slowly getting a new personality.
The walls are all painted a gorgeous lavender color, except for the wall behind the bed.
Instead, there’s a background of a forest behind it reminiscent of a foggy night. It’s absolutely gorgeous.
“Wow,” I whisper, unable to look at anything else.
Sure, there is a swing on the ground in the middle of being built and a blanket connected to knitting needles I’m confused about, but that wall? It’s perfect.
“Sorry about the mess,” Winter squeaks out as she comes out of the bathroom. There’s a closet that connects to it as well, but I don’t see any signs of Bellamy as I glance at her.
“Your mural is beautiful,” I tell her. “I don’t give a fuck about the mess, Winter. This is your space, your house. Messes happen, it’s part of living.”
“I’m still figuring that out. Bell did the mural,” she admits. “Aunt Matilda was a cunt about, well, everything.”
“As you said, she’s a cunt,” I shrug. “I wanted to check on you, see if you need anything.”
“Need?” Bellamy asks, coming out of the bathroom. He’s freshly showered, and I smile at him as he pulls his shirt down. He was in the middle of dressing it appears.
Both of them are gorgeous, and working together is good for them. Morning exercises and dinner is about the only time I see them now that they have their own fridge and snacks.
“I can build shit,” I say, smirking as I glance at the swing that’s in pieces on the ground.
“We got a little side tracked,” he admits, blushing.
I really want to know what happened, especially when Winter perfumes. I think it’s healthy that they’re enjoying each other. They barely had any time alone together before they were sold.
The fight or flight response isn’t needed in this house. They can simply be here.
“I’m bored,” I finally groan. “Have mercy on me.”
Winter giggles, shrugging.
“Bell is having trouble with the directions on the swing. You can build it if you can figure them out,” she says.