Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Hazen
H is piercing screams reverberate through the shed, creating an eerie echo that bounces off the walls and back into my ears. The little bitch has been screaming like a little girl for hours but still hasn’t muttered a word. I’m about ready to kill the fucker for wasting my time and energy.
“Next finger will be this one,” I say, placing the vice around his index finger and pushing down.
He screams, tears falling down his pathetic face. “No! I told you everything I know.”
“Bullshit. Where is he?” What I have managed to extract from him is absolutely useless; I already know it all. With so many men at our disposal, it’s not necessary for me to be involved in this, but there’s a special circumstance that sets it apart. This is personal, and I want to hear the truth fall from his lips. I want answers.
I’ve had enough. With a tight grip, I exert pressure until his finger separates, joining the other three on the bloody ground. Despite his wailing and thrashing, the restraints hold him firmly in the chair.
It’s frustrating that he’s still refusing to speak; he was ready to share something with Freya before, but now he’s not playing ball. Looks like he doesn’t give a fuck about his fingers. Next is his face.
I make my way to the wall where my tools are stored and pick out a carving knife. I run my thumb along its edge. I can’t help but smile as I watch a drop of blood drip down my thumb, and I savor the metallic scent in the air.
The door creaks open, and Gage’s eyes widen in horror as he takes in the sight of me, covered in blood. A shudder runs through his body. It’s comical that he’s so unnerved by the sight of blood, especially considering our occupation. Whenever he gets any on him, he has to spend hours cleaning it off.
“Any luck?” he asks, moving around the tarp that’s surrounding the guy. He’s being careful not to get anything on his shoes.
I shake my head, twirling the knife between my fingers. “I’m about to go Picasso on his face. Wanna watch?”
“Fuck no.”
He departs with a forceful slam of the door, leaving me alone with my target. Just how I like it. No distractions, just me and him.
“Time to play a game, Jeremy.”
Moving closer to him, I carefully step over his legs and settle down on the chair, which groans in protest. Tremors run through his legs as I lift the knife toward his face, carefully sliding it beneath his eye. I refrain from pushing too hard just yet, despite the blood trickling down his cheek.
He screams pitifully.
“I’m going to paint a picture on your beautiful face. One that even the famous Harry Potter can’t compete with.”
“Please, no! ”
“It can all stop if you just tell me what you saw.”
“I can’t or he’ll kill me.”
“Who?”
“Please . . . no.”
I chuckle. “You’re dead either way. It’s either at my hands or his. Take your pick.”
The knife digs in further, and I start carving a star into his cheek.
“Stop,” he yells, so I pause, pulling the knife back slightly.
“Talk.”
“I saw Alec LeClair talking with your father at the ball. He was in his office. That’s all, I swear.”
“This would have been so much easier if you just talked first, but then again, we wouldn’t have got to play this little game, would we?” I rise up, taking my weight off him.
“Just let me go please?” he begs, tears rolling down his cheeks and mixing with the blood.
“Can’t do that. You’re a dead man either way, best at my hands.”
Without hesitation, I slide the knife along his throat before he can utter another word, and a rush of blood drenches my chest, creating a vivid crimson canvas. His bloodshot eyes glisten with moisture as he gargles before they slowly glaze over.
I casually toss the knife into the sink, its sharp blade clinking against the cold metal basin. His words continuously repeat in my mind. Why was Alec in my father’s office? The Daring Brotherhood shares no secrets, but my father doesn’t follow our rules.
I head into the bathroom at the back of the shed to shower, leaving the mess for one of the soldiers to clean up. Scrubbing vigorously, I clear the blood from my skin, then lean back against the shower wall, feeling the cool tiles against my back and the hot water cascading over me.
If Alec was talking with my father behind our backs it had to be about him working with The Brotherhood. We’ve never worked with anyone other than those inside our chain of command, but Alec was different. He already patched in at an early age before he and his family were forced to leave. He’s a soldier, and it’s the only reason we allowed him to come back and work for us. No one knew apart from the founding families.
Going behind my father’s back and bringing him back in to work for us was maybe not the smartest idea, since he’s now gone. Lost. And when you get lost here, there’s no finding you.
I couldn’t find it in me to break the news to Freya, but I suspect she already has an inkling. With each passing day, the probability of her finding him diminishes. Alec, driven by desperation to earn extra cash, has now paid the price for wanting to work for us again. Gone in the wind.
I’ve learned the hard way to never let anyone get close to you because people can use that against you. Use them to manipulate you. It’s a weakness, but that doesn’t stop me from thinking about Freya. She’s all I can think about. I want to protect her, hold her close, and have her beside me as the one I come home to. But, fuck, that can’t happen. I won’t allow it. She’s better off on the other side of the tracks where she’s out of sight and mind. But. That fucking word will be the death of me. There’s a selfish part of me that won’t let her get away again.
When she asked me if I remembered her, fuck, my heart—what I have left of it stopped. How could she ask me if I remember her? Of course I fucking do. Even back then, there was something about her. The way she stood up for herself and her friends in a world where men rule and women do as they are told. She knew the rules, but that didn’t stop her.
Eight years old
I watch her sitting on the forest floor, playing with Amirah. The doll Lucas found for them sits between them. Amirah picks it up and starts moving it around, unsure of what to do with it. If father knew they had that, it wouldn’t be a pretty sight to see. I don’t know why Lucas gave it to them. He found it in one of the abandoned houses and insisted on keeping it. We aren’t meant to play with toys. They are for the weak, father always says. We are meant to live in the real world—not some make-believe one.
Pain erupts against my cheek, and my father stands in front of me with an angry scowl on his face. Oh no.
“What have I told you about paying attention? Don’t fucking disrespect me again, boy,” he growls before stepping back. He looks into the forest, catching sight of the girls, and before I think, I step in front of him, trying to stop him.
His fist hits my nose with a crack and tears well in my eyes. I’m not allowed to cry but I want to. Blood drips down my lips, and the tangy taste burns down my throat. Gage and Lucas stay still beside me. They know better than to react.
My father moves quickly through our backyard and into the forest. Footsteps follow behind me, Lucas and Gage hurrying to catch up.
Freya stands up and pushes Amirah behind her back, protecting her from him. My heart beats faster and faster like it always does when she’s around. I don’t understand it. Girls are bad. Father says we aren’t meant to show them any love because they don’t deserve it. They are meant for one thing only: to be at our beck and call. But I like her and my best friend’s little sister. I don’t want to treat them badly. Like my father did with my mother. She always had sores on her, and I wanted to make them better, but she didn’t let me.
“What the fuck is this?” My father grabs the doll and rips off its head. Amirah gasps and Freya’s nostrils flare.
“Give it back,” Freya yells, and my chest tightens like someone is grabbing it and squeezing. She steps forward, trying to reach for it.
I see it coming, but I can’t stop him. The back of his hand lands on her cheek, and she falls to the ground. My feet move, and before I can think about the consequences, I fall to the ground, grabbing onto her shoulders. She looks up, her ocean-blue eyes filled with tears, and I want to hug her. Make all her pain go away.
A hand grips onto my neck and her eyes widen. She tries to reach for me, but it’s too late. My father pulls me up, spins me around, and his fist comes straight for me. Her screams ring in my ears before everything goes black.
That was the last time I protected her from him and us. I have to keep my distance from her, but the more time she spends with us, the closer she’s getting—and I don’t know how to keep her away anymore.
Our worlds are tied together with black ribbon, and I can’t seem to cut the tether no matter how much I need to.