Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
My legs burn by the time I’m at the building, and I catch myself on the doorframe, the actual door long gone, and swing inside. The building is dark, and I don’t expect there to be any power, though when the Hill brother lunges in behind me, he flips the switch and proves me wrong.
Light floods the small building, showing me ramps and pathways meant for logs to be pushed through. More than one large electric saw sits menacingly in the building, though they’re crammed together in the tight space, their blades rusted and not kept up with.
The man catches me before I expect him to, slamming me into the wall and snarling in my face. “Should’ve killed you first.” His words are full of indignant rage, and saliva lands on my face when he speaks.
“Yeah,” I agree. “You should’ve.” I shove him backward just as Pearl lunges, and she grabs onto his wrist, her jaws tight and crunching down on bone. The man howls in pain and whirls, kicking at her, forcing my dog to let go.
I expect him to run, but he turns on me again with murder in his eyes.
Once again I take off at a dead run, scrambling over machinery and dodging old rubble to get away from him.
I can hear Pearl panting, and I know after the last few days she must be exhausted.
The idea of facing this man without her to literally eat him horrifies me, but I don’t have much of a choice now.
Just as I’m jumping over another of the machines leading to a giant saw blade, the man grabs my ponytail and yanks me to a stop.
I want to scream, to let Fox and Deacon know I need help, but the air is knocked out of my lungs when my back hits the surface of the conveyor, my mouth open and gasping for air my lungs can’t take in.
The only sound that leaves me is a low squeak, and the grin on the man’s face turns cruel and predatory.
“Stupid little girl,” he pants in my face.
When Pearl lunges for him, he somehow tosses her aside, causing her to yelp and circle him, limping, as she tries to shake it off.
My heart clenches for her, and I tell myself I’m going to invest in dog body armor for my man-killer.
“You really thought you could, what? Come kill me? Kill my brothers?”
I laugh at that, struggling against him. “You dumbass inbred bitch,” I sneer. “Your brothers are already dead.”
His face contorts, confused, concerned, and he glances toward the door, one hand still fisted in my t-shirt to keep me where I am. “Yeah,” I jeer. “You haven’t wondered why they haven’t come back? It wasn’t just an animal in those woods.”
“Fuck,” the man curses. “You fucking brought them, didn’t you?
I should’ve known. I should’ve—” he snarls, cutting off the rest of his words, and grabs me to throw me hard against the conveyor belt again.
“Fine,” he snaps. “Fine, then. It’s you and me.
You want to kill me?” He scoffs out a laugh.
“Then do it. But you aren’t exactly in a good position, are ya? ”
He’s right, unfortunately. No matter how much I kick and shriek, my legs and arms working, he’s strong enough to hold me down. He’s not winded enough for him not to laugh in my face, and the smell of his breath makes me recoil.
“Fuck,” I gasp. “What the hell have you been eating?”
“Your friend,” he replies without hesitation, like he was waiting for me to ask. “The girl you were with. Ariana, right?”
My blood goes cold and I look up at him with wide eyes. For some reason, this never occurred to me. I thought once she was dead an-and sold, I didn’t think he could hurt her anymore.
But clearly, I was wrong.
“What is wrong with you?” I breathe. “This is wrong, she didn’t do anything to you!”
“And you think those assholes you’re living with kill people who do something to them?” he roars, irritated. “God, you’re a dumbass little hypocrite, you know that?”
Yeah, I realize.
I really, really am.
But there is a difference, and I have to hold on to that. This man and his brothers tortured Ariana, and they had fun doing it. The Shaw family is different.
Waste not, want not.
There is no necessity in what these brothers do.
“Michael!” The yell from outside is desperate, loud, and echoing. “Michael, help!” It doesn’t sound like either of my men, and I don’t know why they’d be yelling for a Michael, anyway.
When the man above me, whom I suspect is in fact Michael, looks up and away, his grip loosens slightly. It’s just enough, and I yell for Pearl, who surges forward to bite into the meat of his thigh, causing him to cry out and his leg to buckle.
It’s not much, but it’s enough. I struggle to grab him, and my fingers dig into the material of his thin, white t-shirt.
With enough effort to make my body scream in protest, I drag him onto the conveyor belt, aided by the fact I’m pretty sure Pearl took some essential muscle with her when she tore backwards.
“Michael, huh?” I pant, shoving him down with my knee in his back.
“What’s wrong? Scared they’re going to kill your brother?
That they’re going to slaughter him like the meat he is?
I don’t think either of you are—What was the term?
” Cold rage builds in me, making me feel like a completely different person than Sadie-Rae Barnes.
Maybe she died that day, in the basement of a dirty auto shop, while her friends were being butchered.
Maybe it’s better that she did.
Who I am now doesn’t hesitate. I reach out, not sure if it’ll even work, and kick at the lever on the nearby control stand as hard as I can.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The lever finally moves, and the conveyor belt grinds to life, somehow still working even though this place doesn’t look like it’s got much life left in it, if any. Michael curses and manages to flip onto his side to try to throw me off.
“Prime meat, right?” I pant, fighting to keep him under me as the conveyor belt meant for logs moves jerkily toward the saw. “That’s what you called me?”
The saw catches a few times, spinning once, stopping, and finally picking up fully to whir and buzz in my ears. I can hear old gears grinding, and I doubt this thing will work for very long.
“N-no! No!” Michael fights me, kicking and yelling and fighting me like a rabid animal.
“Well, I don’t think you’re prime meat, Michael,” I admit with a snarl.
“But fuck if I’m not willing to find out.
” He shoves upwards, and for a moment, I’m scared he’s actually going to get me off him.
If I end up on the bottom, then it’s me who’s going to die here, and the surge of rage-filled terror makes me scream and push my hand on his throat to force him back to the belt under me.
He meets my eyes, his gaze full of terror and anger. “You’re just like us,” he tells me, his eyes bright, his voice barely audible with the approaching buzz of saw blades.
“You’re just as much of a monster as—”
The saw doesn’t cut into his head smoothly, and whatever I predicted, his death isn’t kind or quick.
The metal grates against bone, not quite able to cut through it at first, and Michael screams as his scalp is flayed open, blood spattering my face, clothes, and arms. I jerk back as the saw grinds to life again, and finally it cuts through the bone of his skull to slice into his brain.
Michael screams and screams, his body jerking as the conveyor belt jams, the blade spinning and throwing bits of blood, gore, and brain matter everywhere. All I can do is sit there, stunned into silence and my eyes wide as I watch.
The saw survives long enough to finish the job, and I’m grateful for that. Not having to deal with him still breathing is a mercy, though the sight of the saw cutting downward through his face when the conveyor belt gives one last, desperate jerk, is going to haunt my dreams for years.
But at last, he’s still. The machine sputters and dies, the belt going completely dead under me.
The saw, embedded in Michael’s face, isn’t going anywhere, and the conveyor belt has definitely made its final lap.
It was just enough, somehow. Like it was fate for me to come here and saw Michael’s head in two in order to give him even a fraction of the pain and terror I know Scotty and Ariana felt.
“Definitely not prime meat,” I whisper, finally getting to my knees.
Pearl puts her front paws up on the side of the conveyor belt, licking at my hands, and I choose to believe it’s out of concern for my well-being, instead of just lapping up her favorite treat.
“I’m okay,” I tell her. “I’m fine. You were so good, and. ..”
When I hop off the conveyor belt, finally standing on my own two feet and covered in blood, I realize I’m not alone.
Fox and Deacon are standing a few yards away, with Fox leaning against a piece of machinery, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he watches me.
Deacon’s arms are crossed, his head tilted, and he has that same shrewd scrutiny in his gaze.
Suddenly, I’m afraid of what they think. I’m terrified that they’re going to turn away from me, that they’re going to tell me I’m just as much of a monster as the Hill brothers, and that they want nothing to do with me.
I’m afraid of being alone again.
“Well,” Fox drawls finally, a small smirk playing at his lips. “You know what I think, Deacon?”
The blond glances at him, but doesn’t speak as he waits for Fox to continue.
“I think you’ll have to stop calling her little prey. Not when our predator here is covered in blood and just split a man’s head open with a tree saw.” His grin finally widens, and Deacon smiles too, both of them looking like proud parents at their child’s recital.
“You aren’t upset?” My hand curls around Pearl’s collar and I stand there, braced, too afraid to assume.
“Upset?” Deacon repeats, his eyebrows rising towards his bangs. “Sadie-Rae…” Closing the distance between us, he reaches out to cup my face in his hands, leaning down until his lips are only inches away from my bloody ones.
“I don’t think either of us has ever been so fucking turned on in our lives.”