Chapter 44
Wrath
I slip out of bed around three-thirty in the morning. After leaving Millie a note, I head downstairs to my sled. Trinity sent me a text earlier to tell me to meet them in the cellar.
I’ve been there a few times over my years with the New Orleans chapter of the Kings. It’s at the back of their property. An old pet crematorium. It was there before they built the school. It’s a good quarter mile away from the school.
By the looks of the sleds parked out front, I’m the last to arrive. I park my sled and hurry inside. They made the old reception area into a comfortable seating area. A large screen TV Sectional with reclining ends. A pool table and small bar complete the room’s decor.
The brothers from the club were here.
Chief greets me first. “Good to see you, Wrath.”
“I’m ready to get the party started,” I say.
“Hell yeah,” Preacher says.
Preacher is Baton Rouge’s newest member. He patched over from a club in Nashville. One of Chief’s former police brethren. Has a club in Nashville. Preacher needed a change of scenery. That’s all I knew. One day, maybe he’d tell me his story.
I follow Chief as he leads us into the back room. They installed a drain in the cement floor. Off to one side is the incinerator. They have five guys strung up hanging from hooks and standing on their tiptoes. The other guy, looking deathly pale, sits with his back against the wall.
“Sentry patched him up. He’s not dying tonight unless we decide he doesn’t need to breathe anymore,” Trinity supplies.
Chief looks at us, then them.
“Have at it, boys. Loosen their lips.”
I go for the one that Millie kicked in the nads. Without a word, I begin working his body over. Using it like it’s a punching bag. I work him over for several minutes before he begs me to stop.
“Who hired you?’
He starts to speak. “It was...”
“Shut up. You don’t tell them anything.”
Hammer hits the guy in the mouth. Hard enough to make his head snap back.
“Strip them, turn down the temp, and get the hose,” I say.
The prospects get to work. The men curse and yell, but to no avail. Soon, they had their clothes cut off. Screw gets out the hose while Trash turns down the A/C.
“Go ahead and hose them down,” Chief says
Screw turns on the hose. It’s linked to a tank of water kept at thirty-three degrees. They have had the tank custom made to hold a hundred gallons of the stuff. We have one just like it back home. When they are drenched, the Chief orders the prospects out of the room. They’d be back for clean-up.
Instead of stepping up to the one I almost cracked, I step up to the one that told him to shut up.
“You’re about to find out why they call me Wrath. Boys, it's about to get bloody. Let’s put on the gear.”
A few of the captives' eyes widen, but the guy in front of me is still acting tough. We’ll see how tough he is. My brothers and I file into a small room off to the side. I hang up my cut on a hook and put on protective gear over my clothes, including booties. We’ll incinerate them later. When I’m finished with the last bootie, I head back to the hole. There's a slight blue tinge to their lips, and most of them are shivering. I step back up to Mr. Tough guy. We didn’t bother asking their names because they all had ID on them. First rule of Crime Club. Never carry your ID.
Triton flips on some death metal. The music pounds from the surrounding speakers. I take a few deep breaths and drop the wall that I keep around my inner anger. A beast I’d long ago learn to cage. The feel of unadulterated rage fueled by the need to protect my wife roars through my veins. It’s the equivalent to a coke fueled rage.
I launch myself at the smug son of bitch, punching, kicking and clawing at him. I unleash all my rage on him. At some point, my mind blacks out. I don’t know how long I’m “out” before I hear someone singing in my ear singing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. It's the song Decker and Saber bring me back from.
I let them guide me away from the meat hanging on the hook.
“Deep breaths,” a soothing voice says.
“You’re doing good, brother,” another adds.
I breathe in and out, listening to their voices. The red slowly bleeds away and I can see clearly. When my eyes come into clear focus, I look to either side. Preacher is on my right while Pyro is on my left.
“Saber said the song would work if you went into a rage,” Preacher says.
“Thank you,” I say, before turning my attention to the smug bastard. He was a twisted, bloody mess and I don’t feel an ounce of regret.
I look to either side of me
“TELL ME!” I roar.
“Aaron and Felicity hired us to kidnap Millie. They said she was abducted by a biker gang.”
I heard another one snicker. “He wants her dead and he won’t stop until she is. You can do what you want to us. He’ll send more.”
Triton punches the snicker off the jerk.
“Where are they?”
“A roach motel outside of town,” The first one supplies.
“What’s your name?” Chief asks.
“Paul.”
“Paul, your cooperation, and the fact you didn’t know the true intentions of Aaron and Felicity, saved your life today.”
He turns to the rest of us. “Kill them and burn them.”
Paul gets lowered to the ground and taken out of the room by Sentry. The rest of them get their throats cut. We pile the bodies near the incinerator.
“What about the guy by the wall?”
“Good question. Let me see the IDs,” Chief says.
Trinity hands him the IDs. Chief shuffles through them. “He has the same last name of the guy who knew they wanted Millie dead. He can go with the rest.”
“Bug’s looking for the address now. Let’s get cleaned up.”
I strip off the protective gear and put it in the bin to be burned before stripping off my clothes and stepping into the locker room style shower. Each head has a bottle of soap hanging off it. A few minutes later, I’m clean, dry and redressed.