Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Ileft Addison in her room with a promise to come back in the morning. I didn’t want to leave her. If she’d let me, I’d stay glued to her side twenty-four fucking seven so nothing could ever hurt her again.
But right now, I have a fucking asshole to drain of blood. Jameson. I happen to know exactly where he is too. That fucker is on the football team. Although he’s not going to be breathing much longer.
First, I’m going to need supplies and the closest place to get what I need is my sister’s house.
I pull up to Mabilia’s, hoping she’d be out.
But of course, I don’t have that kind of luck on my side.
I don’t bother going into the house. I know she’ll come and find me.
Instead, I help myself to her garage and then punch in the code for the walk-in safe.
My sister is a nutjob, but times like this, her insane mind comes in handy because she has a fully stocked mini armory.
I’m filling a bag with ammo when I eye a flamethrower and pick that up. I plan to cause as much fucking destruction as I can tonight.
“Lex, what are you doing?” Mabilia stops in the doorway.
“I need to borrow a few things,” I tell her.
“Why?”
“Because some fucker has been living on borrowed time for over a year and I need to collect on his ass.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but can I come?” She smiles.
“No,” I grunt out. “I need to do this, Mabilia. It’s… important.” Addison is the most important thing I’ve ever had in my life. And I have no doubt that I still have her because of my parents.
Fuck, I owe them an apology. They also should have fucking told me she was hurt. Fucking hell. She should have fucking told me. But I don’t have time to think about that right now.
“Okay, but you’re going to want gas for that,” my sister says, drawing my attention back to the flamethrower in my hand. She then picks up a nitrogen gas tank and holds it out to me. “Do not burn yourself.”
“Aw, you worried about me, sis?” I grin.
“Yes, because if you die, then I’m the craziest child Mom and Papa have. I don’t need that title, Lex,” she deadpans.
“Right.” I roll my eyes.
I might have gone down a hole of self-destruction over the last twelve months. But I was fucking pissed off, and now I’m pissed at myself more than I ever was at Addison for leaving. I really should have listened to my father and gone after her.
The duffel bag hits the wooden floor in the middle of the football frat house. “If you want to leave, now is your chance. I won’t give any of you another warning. Tell me which room Jameson is in!” I yell out to the jocks, who are all staring at me.
“Get the fuck out,” some idiot who thinks he wants to be the tough guy yells back.
Bending down, I take out the baseball bat. It is America’s pastime. I think it’s time to play a little ball…
I bring the bat down on the large-screen television hanging on the wall. “The next swing is going to the heads of anyone still in this room.”
That’s when they all decide to fucking run.
“Smart choice!” I call out after them.
Picking up the duffel bag, I make my way to the staircase. I pull the pistol from my side and empty the magazine into the ceiling above me. Seconds later, I hear doors opening and feet running. I wait until I see him. Fucking Jameson. The prick notices me and turns around.
“All of you get the fuck out of here if you want to live past the night,” I tell the guys running down the stairs towards me. I take two steps at a time before I’m face-to-face with Jameson. “You and me have some catching up to do. Which one is your room?”
I push him down the way he came.
“What the fuck, Lex?” he grunts as I shove the end of the pistol into his back.
We end up in a room. There are clothes everywhere. My foot kicks the door closed behind us, the bag drops to the ground, and then so does my gun. Jameson spins around, ready to try to defend himself. My fist swings out, clocking him right along the jawline.
“You touched something that wasn’t yours to touch,” I tell him before hitting him again.
He falls backwards, and I take the opportunity to bend and pick up the baseball bat. I step closer and swing at his left knee. The sounds of his screams are like fucking music to my ears.
“She’s lying. She wanted it!” he cries out. The bat swings and hits the side of his body.
“You’re going to feel every bit of fucking agony you made her feel.” I swing the bat again. Once he’s curled up on the ground, I get the zip ties from the bag and bound his hands and ankles together before laying him out on his stomach.
Taking my knife from my ankle, I then slice the back of his shorts open. Blood follows my blade and he squirms underneath my weight in a lame attempt to get away from me. I pick the bat back up.
“Stop screaming, Jameson. You want this,” I tell him right before I shove the fat end of the bat up his ass.
His screams get louder but I don’t stop. Fuck him. I pull the bat out and shove it up there again. A few times. When I’m done, I walk over to the window, open it, and look down. There’s a crowd of jocks staring up at the house.
I return my attention to Jameson, hauling him up by the back of his shirt.
“You really shouldn’t have fucking touched what’s mine,” I tell him before I slide my knife along his throat.
I then drag his body over to the window and toss him out.
“That’s what happens when you touch things that belong to me.
Let it be a fucking warning to all you fuckers! ”
I walk back over to my supplies, pull out the flamethrower, and hoist the duffle bag onto my shoulder. Lighting the thing up, I aim it at the bed, then the drapes before I walk out and into the room next door, repeating the process.
By the time I’m standing in the entrance to the living room, the entire frat house is set ablaze. I take that as my cue to walk out the front door. Not a single person says a word to me as I shove past them.