Chapter 2
SAMAIRA
“ C rimson Tiger, you copy?” Sloane’s voice crackled in my earpiece.
“Copy,” I muttered, focusing my gaze on the four pathetic fucks lounging near the swimming pool of one of their summer houses, smoking pot.
“Now remember, we only want them injured and unconscious to transport them with the least resistance. Minimal bloodshed. You can have your fun later.”
I hid in one of the neighbor’s giant trees, staring at my targets.
Anger coursed through my veins at the thought of these rich, entitled assholes getting away with the most horrendous crimes and then lounging in their daddies’ summer houses without a care in the world. A total waste of human life.
“Will try. Let me know when it’s all clear.” I cracked my knuckles, impatience clawing at me from the inside as my rage and violence waited to burst free.
“All clear. You have ten minutes. Once they’re immobilized, Shadow Panther will help load them up. Clear? ”
“Clear.”
I jumped off the tree and swiftly landed right beside the first piece of human trash.
Before the other three could comprehend what happened, I backhanded the first guy, and he instantly dropped unconscious. Pathetic.
The other three immediately scrambled out of their lounge chairs. They tried to come at me, but I was stronger and quicker.
I kicked one of them in the ribs, grabbed the arm of another, twisting it sharply to dislocate his shoulder, and punched the last one in the head, knocking him unconscious.
“Who are you?” the guy whose shoulder I had dislocated whimpered.
“Your worst fucking nightmare,” I said, cocking my head and moving closer to where he leaned against the lounger.
He scrambled back, eyes wide with terror at the sight of me.
I stood clad in black tactical gear, stretched taut over thick muscle. My biceps strained the sleeves, and powerful thighs tested the fabric’s limits. A predatory crimson-and-black tiger mask with gold lining hid my face. At five feet, nine inches, I was coiled with power and menace.
I advanced a step. The two weak shits practically tripped over themselves falling back.
“Stay back,” the guy with the broken ribs shrieked.
I chuckled. “Did you stay back when Mary asked you to?”
Without waiting for his response, I lunged at them, knocking them both out with a punch to one’s head and a backhand to the other’s face.
“They’re all unconscious. Get the van ready,” I informed my team via comms.
“Copy. Shadow Panther reaching you in ten seconds.”
I was tying up one of the unconscious dudes when Shadow Panther landed beside me .
“Took you long enough,” she said.
“Needed to at least get in a few punches before I incapacitated them.”
I lifted one of the guys and dropped him onto Shadow Panther’s shoulder, then hoisted the second one onto her other one. Grunting with the weight, she said, “Damn, these rich kids are heavy.”
“Fucking pigs,” I muttered.
She snorted as I lifted the remaining two onto my own shoulders.
“Exit via the east backyard. Coast is clear.”
With a grunt, we moved quickly. We were inside the van within twenty seconds and speeding out of that shithole town fifteen minutes later.
I removed my mask and met the eyes of my fellow Wildcat, Tara, who did the same.
I cracked a smile. “Now, the real fun begins.”
One precise snip and I sliced that tiny dick clean off the fucker. He bucked, shrieking like an animal caught in a trap, his shouts echoing off the walls. Pathetic . Blood spewed down his legs as his shrieking dissolved into agonized wails. Fucking music to my ears.
“Relax.” I chuckled, admiring my handiwork before flicking the blade clean. “It was a clean cut. It won’t kill you.” I tossed the shriveled little trophy in a tiny box.
He cried harder, terror amplifying as he stared at the snarling crimson tiger that hid my face. We never showed our faces—standard op for plausible deniability if things went sideways. “Help! Somebody, help me.”
“Cry, you little fuck. Cry harder.” I laughed in his face, knowing no help was coming for him.
“You can’t do this. Help!” he shrieked, spit flying.
Blood dripped down his cracked forehead, his swollen eyes staring at me with abject horror and that primal fear that I loved to see.
Oh yes, I knew that look. If he could shit himself, he would.
He’d already pissed himself ten kicks and five punches ago.
He lay in a spreading puddle of his own piss and blood, one hand clamped uselessly over his mutilated groin, sobbing and thrashing in pain. Behind him, the other three guys were already whimpering and clawing at the walls of the small room, making me that much more excited.
“Stop moving so much, or you’ll bleed out,” I mumbled, tapping my boot impatiently and looking at the clock.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hurt Mary.”
A harsh, barking laugh ripped out of my chest. “ Hurt Mary?” The sheer understatement of their act made me see red.
“Is that what we’re calling it these days?
Hurt? See, that’s why entitled fucks like you don’t deserve to have that tiny little part I just cut off.
” My boot slammed into his gut with a thud , making him fold over and start gagging on the floor.
“I’m sorry we r…ra…raped Mary,” he finally choked out between harsh breaths.
Too fucking little, too fucking late. They hadn’t just raped her; they had brutalized her and damn near killed her.
She had to stay in the hospital for three months just to be able to go to the bathroom on her own.
And if that wasn’t enough, when she pulled herself together, gathered the courage to speak her truth, and complained to the police, their rich dads had just waved their money.
They made the whole thing disappear, making her a laughingstock in their little town.
Yes, I loathed bastards like these, and if I had to be the one to serve them karma and take them out, good fucking riddance.
My kick arced down, aimed to hit his bleeding groin, but Naomi’s sharp voice cut through my earpiece, “Careful, Tiger. You don’t want to kill him just yet.” Dammit.
My boot halted barely a millimeter from his bleeding hand clamped around his groin. With a grunt, I left him bleeding on the floor and whirled around to face the remaining three.
The moment my gaze locked on them, the three of them dissolved into pure panic. Screaming, they clambered along the walls, pushing each other in front. They raised their hands in surrender as snot and tears ran down their face.
I stepped closer, and they flinched in sheer terror. Amusement trickled down my spine at the view. “How does it feel to be on the other side, boys?”
They all whimpered when I snatched the guy closest to me by his designer shirt and drove my fist deep into his gut. He slammed down on his hands and knees, blood spewing from his mouth.
He raised his arm in defeat as he tried to breathe through his mouth. “Please! Please don't cut my dick off. I told them it was a bad idea. I told them we shouldn’t do it,” he cried.
I leaned down until my mask was inches from his face.
He flinched and pushed himself deeper into the ground, trying to escape me.
“Yet you did,” I whispered. “You raped her. You didn’t actually stop anyone.
You didn’t even get Mary to the hospital.
” Driven by the dark red rage running rampant in my veins, I slammed my forehead against his.
The loud, satisfying crack echoed in the room as his eyes rolled back in his head and rendered him unconscious.
Or maybe he was just faking it to delay the inevitable. Who cared.
I straightened and turned around to the other two, their faces white with terror. My chest heaved with anger, and I roared like a fucking tiger, making them squeal like the pigs they were. My mask only fueled their terror, and I relished in watching them piss themselves.
A mad, unhinged laugh escaped my throat, and I bellowed, “RUN!” The two of them shrieked, scrambling over the walls, dashing around in the tiny room, and pushing each other toward me .
Neither of them dared to try to attack me. Not that it would do anything. They’d just piss me off, and they all knew instinctively not to push the biggest predator in the room.
Just as I was deciding who to grab first, Tara’s bored voice droned through my earpiece. “Here we go again. Stop playing with your prey, Samaira. The bar’s filling up, and the boss needs you upstairs. Now.”
Fuck, playtime was over. I sighed and lunged at the boys.
I stormed out of the torture room, a box full of four severed dicks in my bloodied hand, ready to lay it down at Mary’s feet.
Naomi, in her black-and-silver jaguar mask, stood right outside the door.
Her arms crossed at her chest, she was furiously tapping her foot.
“Couldn’t you be quicker? A little more careful?
Do you know how difficult it is to keep these fuckers alive when you toy around with them after chopping off their dicks? ”
I shrugged, my mask hiding the huge smile stuck on my face while waving the box of their dicks in front of her.
She sighed and entered the room, where all four unconscious men lay in their own blood.
I walked down the hallway. Both sides were lined with smaller rooms, each soundproofed so no noise could escape.
These were where we occasionally kept the culprits.
Our operation was three floors below ground level.
The ground level itself operated as a bar and restaurant.
I walked up a hidden, wooden staircase to the floor directly above, entering our private space, which we called our Den.
The moment I entered, I removed my mask. Facing the entrance was a twelve-foot-tall black wall etched with our emblem—a giant lunging gold panther right beside the word WILDCATS in bold gold letters. Painted directly underneath it was our tagline: When the law doesn’t work, WE do .
A bit overdramatic? Sure. But we called ourselves Wildcats, and we were proud of it.