Chapter 27 #2
“Oh, I know, baby.” I push his hair back from his face as I stroke a comforting hand through it.
“Here, I’ll get you some water.” I grab the glass beside the bed and hurry into the bathroom.
I toss the contents down the drain and rinse it thoroughly before filling it with fresh water, then I rush back to him and help him sit up to take a sip.
“Here, just lie back and get some rest while I take out the trash,” I encourage him, and he closes his eyes and leans back on the pillow I propped behind him.
I place the glass on the bedside table and look around the room. There’s a solid wood chair sitting under a desk, which will be perfect for what I have in mind.
I pull it out and then go into Tristan’s closet and search for something I can use to restrain Stacey.
“Hmm, my boy is kinky,” I murmur with appreciation when I find a box stuffed full of sexual restraints and toys. I take out the handcuffs and a set of leather straps for her legs.
Returning to the bedroom, I drag her limp body over to the chair before lifting her into it.
She sags forward, so I pin her with my body and cuff her hands behind her back.
Next, I use the straps to bind her feet to the legs of the chair.
I step back and admire my handiwork before slapping her across the face.
She rouses with a shout and starts thrashing around when she realizes she’s restrained, but the chair is good quality wood and heavy as fuck.
She isn’t going anywhere. She’s hissing and spitting when she finally looks up and sees me standing there, watching her, flicking my knife in and out patiently.
“Oh fuck,” she stammers before raising her voice. “Help, help!” she shouts, but the gunfire and screams that we heard before have faded, and I’m going to guess there isn’t anyone left who cares to hear her scream.
“So here’s the thing, Stacey,” I start pleasantly. “I don’t like it when other people touch my things.” I think about it for a moment. “Actually, scratch that. I don’t like it when people I don’t want to fuck touch my things.”
“He isn’t yours, you whore,” she spits out defiantly. “He’s mine, my husband, and I have every right to do whatever I want to him.”
“Uh-uh-uh…” I waggle the knife in her face, and she pales and flinches back.
“Consent is sexy. Didn’t you know that? And Tristan” —I point the knife in his direction, his gaze is still a little unfocused— “didn’t consent. Just like I didn’t consent when you drugged me too.”
“Please, he’s begging for it, just like you were when I fucked you,” Stacey taunts, not knowing when to quit.
“Yeah, you see, drugging someone and then fucking them is not consent, and now you are going to pay for your filthy fucking ways,” I finish with a growl.
Stacey finally starts to realize she’s in trouble. She shakes her head. “No, please don’t. I won’t touch him again, I promise.”
“Too late.” I take my knife and slide it gently over her naked torso.
She tries to flinch away from it but can’t move.
“Now, I can’t actually cut your fingers off like I want to because this knife is no good for cutting through bone, and I don’t have any of my usual tools here, so instead, I’m going to teach you a lesson another way. ”
I start carving into her skin, whistling as I go, trying to drown out the sounds of her screams, but if I’m honest, they are music to my ears and the perfect accompaniment to work to.
Blood trails down her body in long, red rivers, and I feel my nipples pebble and my core throb.
I can’t help the moan that escapes my mouth, and I hear Stacey whisper, “You’re sick. You’re a monster.”
“Yes, Stacey, I am. You thought you could play with the big guns, and now you are reaping what you sow.”
Her whimpers slowly die off, and when I stand back to study my handiwork, she has passed out.
“Well, you’re no fun,” I grumble and look around the room. Over on his desk, Tristan has a bong with a lighter sitting next to it. “Ahh.”
I pick it up and press the button. It’s a blowtorch style, and I giggle with sick satisfaction.
I cross back to Stacey and perch on her lap, grabbing a handful of hair and tipping her head back.
I press the button on the lighter, and the whooshing sound of flame fills the room.
I hold it next to one of her eyes, and it isn’t long before they pop open.
I use my hand to keep it open when she starts screaming and bucking as the water inside her eyeball starts to bubble and boil and blister.
The smell makes me wrinkle my nose, and I eventually get bored when she passes out again, so I climb off her lap and toss the lighter on the desk.
Hmm, what else can I do to her? I study her clinically, searching the room again for something else I can use. Maybe I could use the bong and violate her like she violated me, but that just seems wrong.
“Holy shit.” A voice behind me has me spinning and reaching for my knife, but I relax when I find Sage standing there. He approaches me carefully, his gun hand relaxed by his side, taking in what I carved into Stacey’s chest.
“Thou shalt not covet. Tasteful and artistic,” he praises me, and I shrug.
“I was feeling whimsical. Oh, hey, can I use that?” I ask him, pointing to the gun.
He shrugs and hands it over, swapping me for my knife. “It might have a couple of rounds left. How’s our boy?” he asks, moving over to run his hands over Tristan to check if he’s injured. Tristan moans and grabs Sage, pulling him down for a kiss.
“Horny,” I reply dryly, “but unscathed.”
“Look how sexy Tori is, covered in blood,” he mutters. “Makes my dick hard.”
“I don’t think it was me who made your dick hard,” I reply, turning my attention back to Stacey.
I lift the gun and pull the trigger, watching with satisfaction as the bullet obliterates her kneecap, but she doesn’t scream. The pain from her eye was too much, and she’s down for the count.
“Well, shit. Maybe I’ll try one more,” I mutter and aim the gun at her other knee. Her body jolts, her nerves reacting, but all she does is groan pitifully. “Damn.”
“Suck it, please, Sage,” Tristan begs, and Sage chuckles.
“Keep it in your pants, big boy, the father-in-law is on his way.”
“Dad is here?” I look longingly at the doorway, hoping and praying to whatever god that may still glance my way that Dad forgives me.
Sage scoffs as he fends off Tristan’s grabby hands somewhat successfully.
“You thought he wouldn’t want his own piece of revenge?
He and Mickey beat Mario with their bare fists until there was nothing left but a bloody hunk of unrecognizable meat.
Colton and Xavier pissed on his body, and then Vienna doused him with vodka and set his body on fire.
She is vicious, man. He was still screaming for help while he burned, but we need to get going.
The closest neighbors might have heard something and alerted the authorities.
Everyone else cleared out after making sure it looks like a cartel attack. ”
I wrinkle my nose at the thought of all those severed hands and heads.
“What do you want to do with her?” Sage asks. Stacey’s chest still rises and falls sporadically, and I know it’s only going to be a matter of time before she bleeds to death, but I can’t risk that anyone will arrive before it happens.
I hold out my hand for the knife, and when he passes it over, I lift her head, shaking her. She cracks open her one good eye and stares at me.
“I’ll see you in hell,” I tell her before slicing across her throat. Hot blood spurts out of her jugular when the blade bites into it, splashing my face, but I hold her head up and watch as the light drains from her eyes until there’s nothing left but her shell.
I release her hair and step back. “Can you get him dressed?” I ask Sage, pointing at Tristan. “I’m just going to wash the blood off so I don’t stain my car,” I say flatly and retreat to the bathroom.
I hang my head and drop the knife into the sink as I lean against the counter. I have been waiting for this day for so long, but now that it is finally here, I feel flat. So many what-ifs flow through my mind as I contemplate what is going to happen next.
What if my dad hates me? What if Tristan, Xavier, Colton, and Vienna leave?
I wouldn’t blame them. They’ve found nothing but pain in Banebridge and Suncity.
What if Sage wants to go with them? What am I going to do now?
My whole focus has been on revenge for so long that I don’t know what comes next.
I lift my head and study my face. I look fucking wrecked.
Stacey’s blood is streaked across my face and starting to dry.
I look like the victim of a serial killer, and for the first time, I don’t feel any satisfaction.
Sure, killing her was awesome, but is that all there is to me?
Will I return to being the angel of death, sitting on Dad’s and Gio’s shoulders, or is there more to life for me?
Can I want more now that Stacey has received her just deserts?
Sighing, I turn the tap on and watch as the blood on my hands turns the water pink and circles down the drain.
“Tori?” I lift my head and slowly turn around to see my dad in the doorway.
He’s dressed more casually than I have ever seen him, in combat pants and a black, long-sleeved shirt.
A balaclava is pulled back over his head.
Even when I saw him yesterday, Mario had him in dress pants and a smart shirt.
It’s hard to remember him ever looking so relaxed, though I’m sure he has been.
It feels like a million years since I saw him.
“Hey, Dad,” I say carefully, bracing myself for his response.
“Oh, baby, you did well.” He holds out his arms, and with a sob, I throw myself into them.
“I’m so fucking proud of you,” he whispers in my ear, holding me tight.
Tears stream down my face as I suck in lungfuls of his familiar scent, all the emotions I have kept bottled since Stacey first took advantage of me finally allowed to flow.
“I thought you were dead,” I sob, and he runs a hand up and down my back.
“I know, and you did everything you could to keep the Russo family together. I couldn’t have done it any better myself. Stop beating yourself up.”
“Guys, we need to go,” Sage says from behind Dad. “We can continue this back at the Lucky Diamond, and we need to get our stories straight for when we get questioned about this shit show.”
“The staff at the hotel will tell them Tori and the others arrived when they discovered me and Carla being held hostage in the penthouse when the cleaners came in,” Dad tells him as he leads me out of the bathroom, his arm around my shoulders like he never wants to let go.
“Tori!” Tristan cheers. “Sage, how about we make Tori the meat in our sandwich?” He smiles goofily, focused on me and not even noticing my dad. I wince, and Dad jerks.
“Is he serious?”
“Stacey drugged him like she drugged me,” I explain, and Dad’s frown smooths out, and he nods sympathetically.
“It will be out of his system in a few hours.” Sage grasps Tristan around the back of the neck and frog marches him out. The sounds of Tristan’s moan and muttering words of encouragement drift back to us.
“Well, I’ll say this, kiddo, I don’t think your life is going to be boring.”
I give him a quizzical look, and he chuckles as we move through the house and downstairs to the waiting cars. We go out the front door, and I don’t even care that I don’t get to see the aftermath of the Russo family justice.
“Sage filled me in on everything, with way too much detail, I might add.” He shudders, and I wince.
Damn Sage and his oversharing.
“Are you okay with that?” I ask, almost holding my breath while I wait for his reply.
“Tori, baby. As long as you’re alive and happy, I’m not going to judge you for any of your lifestyle choices.” He turns me to face him and presses a kiss to my cheek.
“From what I understand, you have no room to throw shade.” I glance over his shoulder and wave at Uncle Mickey, who is leaning casually against a black sedan with his arm around Carla.
“Mario took great glee in showing me the live feed in your apartment, and I saw things I am never going to be able to unsee.”
I stare, somewhat startled, as my father’s cheeks turn red, and he avoids my eyes.
“Ah, yes, well, um…” He trails off.
“How about we agree never to discuss any kind of physical relationship with one another? And like you said, as long as you’re happy, that’s all I want for you.”
He heaves out a sigh of relief. “Agreed. I’ll see you back at the Lucky Diamond?”
“Yup, we will be right behind you,” I promise him, and he presses a kiss to my forehead and strides over to his friends. Mickey tosses him the keys and then drags Carla into the backseat, her giggle ringing out in the quiet, cold night air.
My dad shakes his head with exasperation, but he’s also smiling with happiness, and that’s all I need to see.
“Come on.” Xavier appears behind me, putting his hand on my shoulder. When I turn to look at him, he reaches up and uses his thumb to wipe a smear of Stacey’s blood off my face.
“I’m going to get blood all over the seats,” I argue as he leads me to the car.
“The leather will wipe off,” he assures me, opening the door. “And if we don’t get moving, the backseat might turn into a moving orgy.”
I slide in and peer into the back. Colton, with Vienna on his lap, and Sage are doing their best to fend off a very handsy Tristan.
“He’s like a damn octopus,” Vienna complains as he motorboats her breasts while rubbing a hand over each guy’s crotch.
“Meh, he should pass out as soon as we start moving,” Xavier predicts as he starts the Hellcat with a rumble.
“We’ll take the backroads to avoid running into any possible emergency services on the way.
Unfortunately, unlike your father’s vehicle, this one is a little more recognizable.
” He guns the engine and peels out of the parking area, gravel spitting up behind us.
“Yeah, it is,” I agree, feeling a small thrill of excitement at the speed and knowing things can only get better from here.