Chapter 82 #2
My brain goes back to that night, to Mattie running off with Bryce while my dad died in his place.
He’s disgusting. Knowing what Mattie hasn’t been able to say, but likely happened, I march up to him, slapping him across the face.
I wait for his sneer, then punch him in the gut, his groan bringing a smile to my face.
“A real man teaches his woman to fight back, not to take every hit. It’s a pity it took me so long to figure that out.
But then again, you do like children, so I can’t take all the blame. ”
This seems to remind Trips of what happened, and he yanks Bryce backwards by the hair.
His eyes are crystalline as he stares down at the slug, and a strange prickle of pride bursts. This monster attacked me, ran off with his little sister, but Trips is still in control of his rage.
With one hand, Trips pinches Bryce’s nose, pressing his other palm across his mouth. A moment later, Bryce struggles, desperate for breath, and I feel nothing. When I rub my neck, though, annoyance flickers at the smears of blood that coat my fingers.
Let him see how much he likes not being able to breathe.
Jansen steps close, pulling me against his bare chest, Walker blinking a little too fast as Bryce’s struggles grow sluggish.
When Trips steps back, RJ clears his throat. “The ground is frozen. We can’t dig a hole.”
“The dump?” Jansen asks.
“There will be physical evidence. We can’t risk the body being found,” I say.
Walker looks a little green at our conversation but stays in the room with us. “What about those body cleaners?” he asks.
“There’s a chance they’ll get swept up in my father’s investigation. I don’t want to risk it,” Trips replies.
Bryce comes to enough to scream in frustration, the sound muffled by the shirt, but still audible.
“What does that leave us with?” I ask.
“Fire?” Jansen answers.
RJ pulls out his phone, scrolling for a moment, then shakes his head. “The temperature required to incinerate a body is impossibly high.”
Jansen hops onto the counter. “We could call Emma. See if there’s a crematorium we could use. He’s not much bigger than a Great Dane.”
Bryce screams again, and Trips grins, obviously enjoying the psychological torture. I might smile a bit, too. There’s something about making him sweat, when I was always the one who had to watch myself, that hits like a glass of cold water after a long run. It’s so damn refreshing.
Walker shakes his head at Jansen’s suggestion. “We’ve already pulled her into this mess once. I know she’d do it again, but disposing of a body is a much bigger ask than saving a life.”
I end up nodding. “I don’t want her involved. We already risked her future once. I won’t do it again.”
“Dump him in a lake?” Jansen asks.
I take his arms and wrap them around me. “There’d still be physical evidence.”
“In those movies you love, they always use acid,” Walker says.
Trips is the one who shoots that one down. “The type of acid we’d need is almost impossible to come by without a good reason.”
We stand in a semicircle around a yelling Bryce, wondering what other options there are.
RJ’s brows drop, and he slides behind the restrained man and does something to his shoulder.
Bryce’s screams turn to quiet whimpers. I’m definitely smiling this time.
It’s about time his shoulder got dislocated. Tit for tat, just like he said.
Something dawns on me, and I mull it over as Jansen rests his chin on my shoulder. “What about the city’s composting center?”
“With everything biodegrading, it wouldn’t be frozen,” RJ says.
“Depending on how quickly the body decomposes, it might still leave physical evidence,” Trips says.
“We’d have to bury it deep in the middle. That’s where it’s hottest,” Jansen says, his knowledge of composting not unsurprising. The man knows a little bit about everything, it seems.
RJ once again scrolls on his phone, Bryce’s whimpers quieting as his anger returns. “If we do it right, they won’t find anything for six to nine months.”
“Maybe we burn it, then bury what’s left?” Walker asks, leaning against the wall, looking a little limp.
Trips steps around the bound slug. “I think that sounds like a great plan. What do you say? You’re a worm. You might as well get fed to them.”
Bryce kicks out, his shouts still muffled, and Trips dodges, laughing.
I shake my head, trying not to get caught up in his vicious excitement. “Okay. That’s settled. Now, where should we kill him? And do the burning?” We have a plan for disposal, but I want to get this done before I lose my resolve.
Once again, we stand there thinking about our options before Jansen shifts his weight. “I think I’ve got a place we can burn him. But we’d be offering a future favor.”
“What kind of favor?” Trips asks.
“No idea,” Jansen says. “I’ve never done anything like this.”
“Make the call,” he says, his eyes shifting to mine, checking in.
“Until then?” I ask.
RJ steps forward, an unfamiliar predatory cadence to his steps. “Until then, we make sure he understands what happens to someone who dares mess with any of us or our families.”
Trips nods along but stays watching me. “First blackout should be yours, if you want it.”
I feel the weight of my men’s eyes on me. I know they’ve heard what I did, but none of them have seen me torture or kill besides Trips. And I’m not sure I want to show them that side of myself to them, even as I’m growing to embrace the darkness that’s always lived deep in my bones.
Walker’s the one who pulls me to his chest, his voice soft. “I think I speak for us all when I say I love every bit of you, even the parts that scare you. If you need this, take it. If you don’t, don’t. No one here would ever change the way they feel about you, no matter what you choose.”
Relief washes through me, the safety of his embrace calming the last of my shuddering heart.
Then I step away to circle Bryce, his eyes challenging me instead of afraid.
I want him scared of me. I want him to feel about me the way I felt about him—like one wrong move would lead to consequences that he isn’t sure he can handle.
I’ll never gain his respect. But I can earn his fear.
“How well do you think sound carries here?” I ask as I carefully tug the T-shirt from his mouth.
“It’s pretty empty, so probably far,” Walker says, standing behind my shoulder, offering support.
I turn to Trips. “Bring him to the basement? I want to pick out a good playlist.”
He and RJ laugh as Bryce sputters. I find his voice less annoying now that I know what’s coming for him.
Me.
I’m coming for him.
And he won’t know what’s hit him until it’s too late.