Chapter 28 Gedeon #2
“This is not something I will accept or tolerate. We have gathered you here to remind you of our rule: no oppression methods. That means no force and no coercion. As the violators of our law, today, this self-made group of eight will receive the punishment they deserve.”
Scattered shouts washed over the mass of our residents. One by one, resolution united the swarm, and its buzzing reached its peak. Uncoordinated dull thumps from feet stomping the ground merged into a singular rhythm, and all mouths chanted one word in sync.
Death.
In our world, there were no second chances.
Taking my time, I strode alongside the beats and came to a stop behind the man in the middle. Zion and Amari flanked my sides, each at the back of the other two leaders of their pathetic mob.
Zion handed me my serrated knife and snorted at the thrashing trio in front of us. A rope connected their wrists tied at their backs and their squirming only played on their balance, their legs twining as they teetered.
Once the crowd’s thirst for violence grew wild and the chant lost its rhythm, we yanked their heads back and slit their throats simultaneously.
Unmoving, we remained rooted in our spots while they convulsed, choking on their blood as it spurted onto the stage and stained their clothes. They slumped at our feet, revealing a myriad of spectators watching the show with palpable interest.
Not a single person here had avoided experiencing the brutality and inhumanity of the cities throughout their lives. Witnessing a few criminals get the retribution they had earned for their actions brought satisfaction to many.
Ava brought up the resisting group of five who had robbed the stores. A man bolted toward the stairs leading off the stage. He managed to take five steps before Zion hauled him back and shoved him to his knees.
I turned to the seven owners, the unfortunate victims, waiting for my sign on the other side of the stage, and I offered them my knife in question. Four came closer, with Lucia taking the weapon. The other three owners shook their heads, certain I would respect their decision.
You did not force a person to do what they were not comfortable with. Taking a life was not easy, and not everyone could do it. But most of these owners had been women from the cities who had no problem letting their pent-up pain out on the scum offered to them.
After four bodies lay limp on the ground, the runner the only soul alive, Zion took a single step toward him and the man wet his pants.
“Better to get this over fast. I don’t want his piss on me.” Zion grabbed the fool’s t-shirt collar and slashed his throat in a smooth and graceful movement.
My boots grew sticky from the scarlet liquid slowly spreading over the raised platform and dripping down its sides as I navigated around the bodies to the front.
“Let this be a lesson to those who think life here is not enough. You are free to leave any day and join the cities. But if you choose to stay here, you will follow our rules or face the consequences.” I lingered for a few seconds for my message to settle, then marched off the stage.
The unsteady tower of wooden boxes sparkled in the sunlight, highlighting the emptiness at the top. Kali was gone.
“Nice speech.”
I spun around to find her leaning against a restaurant’s wall, munching on a peach. Juices ran along the underside of her arm and trickled off the elbow.
My eyebrows rose. “You’re eating.”
She stuffed the pit inside her backpack and licked the juices clean off her fingers. “Got hungry waiting for the show to end.”
So executions made her ravenous.
“Did you like it?” My knuckles raised of their own accord to explore her neck colored in blotches of yellows, purples, blues, and reds. A spectacular combination. There was something primal and instinctual about marking a person with your teeth to stake your claim.
She shifted her weight, unaware that the tiny action brought her closer to me. “Do you always make it so bloody?”
“I have to quench the thirst of our people somehow. Shooting or poisoning is too clean.” I tucked a silky strand of her hair behind her ear, admiring the bruises I had left on her flesh. “And it would take away the point of their punishment.”
“There are more creative ways to go about it.” Hesitantly, she reached out and tapped the round scar below my collarbone. “You could adapt their punishment based on their crimes.”
I took her palm and brushed my thumb over the faint scar—where the six stitches had been. Eislyn had assured me it was healing nicely, and that a faint scar was likely to be temporary. A flush crept up her neck, and I asked, “Is there a fantasy you have?”
“Maybe.” She smiled in such a way it was clear this was not the first she had contemplated about this.
“The victims choose the payment. They exact the revenge. However they desire. Death by stones, incineration, suffocation, dehydration, starvation, decapitation, or dismemberment. Slitting their throats is…a bit boring.”
Her murderous intent painted her in the most beautiful colors. “Such a fascinating mind.” The puzzled look she gave me made me chuckle. “Let me walk you home.” Placing a hand on her lower back, I guided us into the dissolving throng. “Where did you get a peach? The season is over.”
“I made some friends.” She used the hem of her white t-shirt to clean her forearm, probably sticky from the fruit’s juice. “By the way, you owe some. Including part of the owners from the stage. Jayla can give you a list if they haven’t come forward.”
“I have debts?” I asked, to distract myself from the need to rip that piece of fabric covering her off. So white, so innocent, so not like her hidden underneath.
We turned a corner, and she greeted a short woman with graying strands laced into a braid passing by. “To her too,” she said smugly. “We went shopping. I put everything on your tab. You brought me here, so you’re going to pay for whatever I need.”
She had found a way to use me.
Her eyebrows furrowed. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll stab you instead of the apple I have in my bag.”
“You know I enjoy your threats.” I steered us along the sun-drenched streets lined with bustling shops and restaurants. “But what will you do if I do take you up on your offer?”
Pulling a shining red apple out of her backpack, she impaled it on the knife Zion had gifted her. “Stick it in your balls.” She offered it to me with a calculated smile. “Want a taste?”
My cock twitched in my jeans at her demonstration. She was as vicious as they came.
I plucked the apple off the tip of her knife and sunk my teeth into the fleshy fruit. Sweetness invaded my taste buds as juice coated my tongue, part of it escaping from the corner of my lip and dripping down my chin, the drop cool in the hot and humid air.
“Delicious,” I said.
The apple was too.