Chapter 25 #2
Ivan walks back over toward me and I observe as Dima, Lev and Jules make themselves comfortable at the back of the room. They must want to watch.
I get back to work and I remove the second nail. Then the third. Ollie is sobbing now, his words incoherent. Snot and tears mix with the blood on his face.
"Noah," Ivan says, his voice thick with something dark. "May I?"
I look at him and nod, forcing myself to take a step back. Ivan moves to the table, selecting a blowtorch. Small, handheld, similar to the kind used for crème br?lée. He lights it and the flame hisses blue and white.
"This," Ivan says, moving closer to Ollie, "is for Tyler, for hurting what belongs to me."
He applies the flame to Ollie’s exposed back, where the cuts are still bleeding. The smell of burning flesh fills the room immediately, acrid and nauseating. Ollie’s scream reaches a pitch I didn't think human vocal cords could achieve.
Ivan holds the flame steady for five seconds. Then ten. Then fifteen.
When he pulls away, there's a blackened, blistered patch of skin the size of a fist.
“We need to finish this,” I say.
"Agreed." Ivan retrieves a larger knife from the table.
Ollie’s lips move, but no sound comes out as Ivan draws the blade across his throat in one smooth motion. The carotid artery opens and blood sprays across the floor in arterial spurts. Beautiful.
It takes forty-three seconds for him to die, and we stand in silence, watching the blood pool around the chair. The drainage system in the floor begins to work, pulling the blood toward the grates. I immediately take out my phone and take pictures.
“I love this room,” I say as I take as many angles as possible.
Ivan turns to me, and something passes between us.
"You enjoyed that as much as I did, we should do it more often," he says.
“It’s good to have hope, Ivan,” I say.
We clean ourselves at the industrial sink in the corner with cold water and industrial soap as the guys make conversation amongst themselves. The blood washes away easily. I quickly text Marcus, and let him know that I need help here with clean up.
“The guys from the clubhouse will be here in twenty,” I say to Dima, who just stares at me. “No need to thank me for preventing a war between you and The Serpents.”
“You should have gone through me before you did this. I don’t appreciate being left in the dark. If it wasn’t for Marcus, I would have had no idea what you two were planning,” Dima says.
“Take that up with Ivan and Marcus. I don’t work for you, I’m just here for the fun.”
I know Dima and Lev want to argue this out, blame it on me, but they manage to hold it together. Done with the drama, me and Ivan walk past them to head out front to make our way back to the hospital.
“How has Chase dealt with this?” Ivan asks me as we hit the road.
"Chase understands what I am, he chose this willingly."
"I just hope Ty feels the same when he wakes up.”
“I can’t do comfort, Ivan, but I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
We remain silent for the rest of the journey until we reach the hospital and head inside where Chase is waiting. I've discovered something about myself tonight, something I already knew but have now confirmed.
I'm very, very good at making people suffer, and I enjoy it. Not in the theatrical way Ivan does, with his pleasure and his showmanship. But in a science kind of way, with an artistic flare. I love the power, too.
Simon is standing outside the ICU waiting room when we arrive and I briefly acknowledge him before I find Chase inside, asleep in an uncomfortable chair.
His journal that never leaves his side is open on his lap, pen still in his hand.
I sit beside him, careful not to wake him. I can see what he's written:
Tyler is paying the price of this world.
No, I think, his is the price of being part of something bigger and we're all willing to pay it. I close the journal gently and rest my hand on Chase's shoulder. He stirs, his eyes opening slowly. When he sees me, relief floods his face.
"Noah?"
"I'm here."
"Is it done?"
"Yes, how is Tyler?”
"Stable. Still unconscious, but stable."
"Good."
Chase leans against me, and I wrap my arm around him. We sit in silence, watching the sun rise through the hospital windows.
Things will start to straighten out now that we know the details and punishment has been partially served. The Serpents agreed that we could deal with Ollie and Vincent as a peace offering to avoid any further conflict, considering it was their traitors who tried to start a war.
"I love you," Chase whispers.
“I’ve got you, baby,” is all I say as he drifts off in my arms.
Two Days Later - Blackrose Saints Clubhouse
The clubhouse basement smells like concrete and old blood.
Vincent Calabrese is already here when I arrive, tied to a chair in the center of the room, his face swollen from whatever Ivan did to him during transport. The overhead light casts harsh shadows across his features, making him look like something already dead.
Soon, he will be.
Ivan stands near the wall, his posture is rigid with barely contained rage.
I've never seen him like this, where the playful Ivan is completely stripped away, replaced by a demon on a revenge spree.
His hands repeatedly clench into fists, his jaw grinds so hard it looks painful, and his eyes are fixed on Vincent with an intensity that borders on madness.
All because this is more personal for him, as Tyler is his. And Vincent hurt what belongs to him, ordered it to happen, even stalked Tyler so they knew when to strike. It’s the only thing I understand about Ivan, the devotion he has to Tyler.
Lev leans against the far wall, his phone in hand, already recording.
Dima wants proof that the message has been sent to anyone who thinks they can target the Kozlov family or their associates.
I also am certain he will show it to Aaron, who has a kink for this kind of thing. I’m surprised he isn’t here.
Marcus stands near the door with Ethan beside him, he was insistent on being here to show allegiance with the Kozlovs.
Ethan has no involvement in the club, so I’m unsure why he has attended, but as I watch him I notice his expression is carefully neutral, and I can see the hunger beneath it, the malicious interest about what's going to happen here. I’m sure after our conversation, the desire to explore that side of himself has unleashed a little more.
Maybe I gave him the confidence to explore.
He looks over at me and his eyes meet mine, before a smirk crosses his mouth.
It’s so strange seeing another me in the open, especially considering he is not hiding it here.
"Vincent Calabrese," Lev says, his voice perfectly calm as he approaches the chair with his usual arrogant swagger.
"You arranged for that fucker Ollie to drive a stolen vehicle into one of our men and you left him for dead. You hurt a member of the Kozlov family and you will pay the price,” Lev says, standing in front of the scared piece of shit.
I look over at Ethan who is transfixed on Vincent, then I look over at Ivan, who pushes off the wall.
"You hurt my Tyler," Ivan says, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. He walks over to Vincent, pulling something from his jacket pocket, a device I don't immediately recognize. Metal and leather, with small spikes protruding from the interior. "You chose to do it to my man."
Vincent's breathing accelerates, his eyes flicking from whatever is in Ivan’s hand to Ivan’s face, panic emanating off his body. "I did what I had to do, you would have done the same."
"So you understand I can’t let you get away with it." Ivan's voice is perfectly steady, but there's a level of crazy you can detect from the depth of his tone. "You hurt him, and now he's fighting for his life."
He slides the device over his hand and I can finally see it's a modified glove, thick leather with the spikes positioned on the palm to cause maximum damage with minimal effort. Like most items I have seen Ivan invent, it’s creative and deeply barbaric.
"I invented this," Ivan says conversationally, flexing his fingers. "I call it the Shredder. It's designed to cause extensive tissue damage without killing immediately. The pain will be…extraordinary."
Vincent starts to hyperventilate and I glance at Ethan. He's watching Ivan with intense fixation, as his body leans in further towards the action like he needs to see more.
"Ethan," I say quietly and he looks at me.
"You should participate."
His eyes widen slightly. "What?"
"Feed your beast." I hold his gaze. "Stop pretending you don't want to, that’s why you’re here. Let go, then I can send the video to Chase for more inspiration.” For a long moment, he doesn't move, but then his shoulders relax in acceptance.
“Can you two stop having these weird conversations please? It freaks me the fuck out,” Marcus mumbles, while shaking his head.
“He can have his turn, but I go first,” Ivan snarls as he drives his modified glove into Vincent's shoulder, the spikes tearing through fabric and flesh with a wet, ripping sound. Vincent screams and it makes my ears ring at the high and broken sound.
"That's for putting Tyler in the ICU," Ivan says, his voice like gravel with rage. He strikes again, this time across Vincent's chest, resulting in more screaming. More blood. "That's for making me watch him lie unconscious."