Chapter 6
Chapter Six
CARTER
There aren’t as many guards inside, but I quickly kill the occasional groups of three. Psycho keeps watching me like a wondrous child observing something amazing for the first time.
“Does Bones know about this?”
I shrug as we stand outside an office that has a sign on it.
Father Murphy.
This is the guy Killian said was in charge of everything. I never encountered him when I was here, but we’re about to have the introduction of a lifetime.
“Know about what?” I ask, speaking low.
“You. With your aim and quick thinking. Fuck. You should be working with us.”
I don’t respond because there’s not a polite way to tell him that I don’t give a fuck what Bones thinks.
I’m not working with the mafia. We have always worked for ourselves and that will not change.
Bones is wound tight and appears to be ready to snap at a moment’s notice.
I don’t want a boss like that and neither do my brothers.
The guy is an asshole in need of a serious vacation.
I nod for Psycho to open the door, as I grip my gun, ready to kill any guards inside the office.
Stepping inside, I quickly shoot the three guards, leaving one man alive.
He sits behind the desk, in his religious clothing.
If I remember correctly they’re called liturgical vestments, but I call it bullshit.
Much like Heather's family, it’s all an act.
Finding out this asylum is connected to her family didn’t even surprise me.
They aren’t godly but fake religious people, using the fucking Bible to torture people and call it the Lord’s work.
I holster my gun and pull my knife out as I nod to Knox. He walks behind the trembling priest and grabs his arms.
“What are you doing?” He asks, his voice shaky now that he has no protection.
My lips pull up into a smile, wide and excited.
“Oh, we are gonna have a little chat.”
Knox zip ties his hands behind his back as he struggles in the chair, knowing damn well he is fucked. He elbows my brother in the side and Knox moves around to him and punches him in the face. Blood drips from his lip to his chin and finally to his white collar.
Stepping in front of him, I slide the blade of my knife down the side of his cheek, glaring at him, my eyes threatening as intended.
“Heather Mancini. Where the fuck is she?”
He stammers, sounding as pathetic as he looks.
“I can-n-t give patient information.”
I laugh hard, probably sounding as fucking crazy as I feel in the moment.
“HIPPA violations are a bitch, but I think that’s the least of your problems right now. Tell me where she was taken, or I’ll fucking slice you, and then let my associate peel the skin from your face.”
Raven holds up his scalpel and moves closer to the desk.
“Cannot fucking wait.”
He stares at me, afraid to move, and rushes out, “I don’t know. I swear I don’t know. She left here with your brother and I-“
I push the knife into his flesh and cut a long line down his cheek as he screams in agony. Blood streams down his face and I sigh with pleasure.
It’s so fucking beautiful. I wish my Little Heathen was here to see it.
“Wrong answer, Father. Let’s try again.”
Tears fall down his face, mixing with the blood. I set the tip of the blade against his forehead, holding it still not piercing the flesh. Yet.
“Where’s the Prophet?”
Blood drains from his cheek to the corner of his mouth and he winces.
“I don’t know where the bitch or any of her family are.”
I cut a curved line at the top of his scalp as I talk to him, my tone calm even though I’m anything but.
“I don’t believe you. Something precious was taken from me.
Anyone who stands in my way of finding her dies.
Anybody that lays a finger on her, dies.
You’re going to be a message for the Prophet, Noah, and anyone else holding my girl.
She’s mine. Nobody touches what’s mine. Not without dire consequences. ”
I drag the knife along the other side of his face, slowly. He trembles as he cries out in absolute terror.
“Do you have anything to say before Raven pulls the skin from your face?”
“In the hour of my death, call me. And bid me come to thee.”
I stop momentarily and stare at him as I wonder out loud about his religious bullshit.
“Praying to your God to save you. What a fucking waste of last words.”
For my girl, I growl the words I’ve heard her say.
“God is dead. And so are you.”
Of course, I have to add my flair.
“Where the fuck is your God, Father? Why isn’t He saving you? Because you’re a waste of fucking flesh, without a soul.”
The rage feels good. Too fucking good, as I fight myself to keep control. Someone physically abused Heather while she was here. And I want to know who it is so I can punish them.
“Did you hit her?”
“N-n-oo. It was Desjardins,” he cries pathetically as an idea springs to mind.
“Open his shirt and hand me your scalpel.”
Raven arches an eyebrow while Psycho chuckles.
“He doesn’t allow others to play with his toys.”
Reaper is quick to bark out a laugh.
“You’re one to talk.”
I disregard them both and glare at Raven.
“Scalpel. Now.”
With an annoyed sigh, he hands it to me and then rips open Murphy's black shirt.
Placing the scalpel against his flesh, I cut a straight line down before making another line across at the bottom. Knox chuckles as the priest looks horrified.
“An upside down cross.” Knox laughs to himself.
“Fucking perfect. She’d love that. I’m going to take a picture.”
He takes a photo with his burner phone because this isn’t our first rodeo. No iPhones with the damn cloud for us.
I hand the scalpel back to Raven and step back, giving him room.
We all stand watching Raven finish the job as Psycho leans in and speaks low.
“I couldn’t see how we were related. You didn’t seem like us, but now—I get it. You’re a fucking psycho, too.”
Somehow, I know this is his version of a compliment. We are one large, fucked up family.
“That’s fucking gross,” Knox laughs once the priest's skin is hanging down from his chin.
His bloody skull without flesh makes his eyeballs stand out.
Glancing at Raven, I try to process the man he is today with the way he is with Bianca.
He has been fairly quiet around us, but now he grins proudly.
“I’m a fucking artist. I bet none of you could do that while keeping the skin intact.”
Grabbing a piece of paper from Murphy’s desk, I scrawl out a note.
We are coming for you.
There’s no army big enough to protect you from the hell ready to rain down on you.
You took what’s ours.
And now we’ll take what's hers.
God is dead, and soon you will be too.
See you soon.
Stuffing it into Murphy's mouth, he whimpers, but he’ll be dead soon.
I glance at Knox as we move on from Murphy’s office to find Desjardins.
“Crazy is definitely a genetic trait.”
Knox nods with a smile on his face.
“It is. And that’s why we have to find her. She’s our equal.”
I agree with him. Heather fits with us like she was born to be ours.
“We will, and if he has hurt her—Fuck. It’s going to be beautiful watching him beg for his life.”
Knox growls, and it sounds as painful as I feel.
“He’s dead either way, but I agree. Her condition will dictate how long it takes.”
I exhale a long breath, ready to face my past.