Chapter 24
24
Amir
The Basement Slaughter
I watch Anora vanish up the stairs, her steps fading before I hear the door shut. For a moment, I stand still, my focus shifting to the rage coursing through me, picturing all the ways I’ll rip these men apart.
Maybe I’ll play with them—push them to the edge of death, heal them, and do it all over again. The thought tightens my chest, and I turn away from the stairs, letting the primal urge guide me deeper into the basement.
The stench hits me first. It’s suffocating—wet stone, cold earth, damp air mixed with piss and shit. Days without bathing have soaked into these men’s skin, mingling with their filth. I breathe it in, unbothered, letting it fuel my focus. This is where they deserve to rot.
Hazel stands in the middle of the basement, frozen, her gaze locked on the cages. She isn’t just standing there; she’s unraveling. I can smell it in the air around her—recognition wrapped in pain, betrayal.
Her knees buckle, and she jerks her head away, gagging. Before I can react, Kade rushes to her side, propping her up as her body heaves. She vomits, the sound ugly and wet against the floor. Kade doesn’t flinch, all her focus on Hazel, steadying her as she folds into herself.
I step past them, headed straight for the cages. My eyes land on Mike. He’s sitting with his back against the metal bars, his athletic frame appearing smaller now that he’s stripped of control.
His dark hair’s matted, and his jaw is set like he’s fighting to keep the fear from showing. But it’s there—the slight twitch in his mouth, the quick bob of his throat. He tries to mask it, but I can see through him.
“I’m saving you for last,” I tell him, letting a smirk curl across my lips.
Mike moves toward the bars, gripping them tightly, his knuckles whitening under the strain. Even like this, vulnerable and trapped, the bastard stinks of entitlement. His confidence hasn’t completely cracked yet. His voice is steady, but there’s a tremor beneath it. “I come from money. You kill me, and your supernatural community will have more problems than you can handle.”
I laugh, soft and low, my voice steady. “You’re adorable when you think you have leverage.”
I step closer, enough to hear how his breathing quickens, to see the flicker of fear in his eyes he can’t control. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with. I’ve been written out of your history. Humanity has done me the kindness of forgetting.”
I open my hand. A red apple appears, perfect, its surface gleaming. I hold it to my lips, taking a deliberate bite. The flesh gives way beneath my teeth, releasing a sharp, bittersweet flavor. The sound echoes in the stillness. I chew leisurely, keeping my gaze locked on Mike as the juice escapes the corners of my mouth.
“The forbidden fruit,” I say, my tone casual. “Did you know I was there when it happened? Watched Adam and Eve stumble, watched them get thrown out of paradise. Funny thing is, it wasn’t the woman. It was never Eve.”
Mike’s face hardens, the wheels turning as he starts putting the pieces together. It’s satisfying to watch his confidence chip away.
“Adam,” I continue, grinning as I take another bite of the apple. “He’s the reason for all your suffering. And accountability? It’s never been a human man’s strong suit.”
I toss the apple across the room, the heavy thud echoing loudly. Mike flinches just slightly. I don’t wait for a response. Stepping away from his cage, I turn toward the next target.
Connor.
He’s impossible to miss, his soft, bloated frame taking up space in the corner of his cage. His blonde hair is greasy, strands falling into his pale, sweaty face. Green eyes dart toward me, wide with panic as I approach. His lips part, but no sound comes out—just his shallow breaths.
I stand in front of him, letting the moment stretch. My head tilts as I close my eyes, inhaling deeply through my nose and savoring the scent rolling off him. It reeks of fear, fresh and raw, but beneath it, there’s something else—something faint but unmistakable.
“You smell like her. More than the rest of them.” My voice lowers, the calm laced with venom. “That means you raped her more than once.”
Connor’s jaw quivers. I step closer, gripping the bars tight enough that they groan under my strength. “Did you enjoy it? Did it make you feel powerful, stripping her of her innocence? Humiliating her? Turning her pain into your amusement?”
He shakes his head vigorously, bile rising in his throat. His lips tremble more now, and tears pool in the corners of his eyes. The sight disgusts me. He can cry all he wants, but it won’t save him.
I stare him down, the words slow and deliberate. “This is just the beginning, Connor.”
“I beg you, please. Send me to jail. I’ll do time for it. Don’t kill me,” Connor pleads, his voice shaking. I almost laugh at him. Humans have tamed their laws, made them soft and forgiving—not me. A thousand years ago, the punishment for what he’s done would’ve been death.
So death it is.
I step back and take in the nine cages, spread out before me like a gallery of failures. The men inside curse, yell, some even drop to begging. It’s pathetic. They know what’s coming. They know what their actions have earned them. The desperation in their faces, the wild panic in their voices—it feeds something dark within me.
“Who should I start with?” I ask, my voice calm as I let my eyes wander. They land on Connor, and I smirk. His pale face goes even whiter. I lift my hand and twitch my fingers. The lock to his cage clicks open, the door creaking as it swings wide.
Connor doesn’t waste a second. He bolts, sprinting wildly toward the stairs, like the fool he is. I flick my fingers again, and his feet leave the ground. The scream that rips out of him is pure terror.
His body rises, limbs flailing helplessly like some pathetic puppet. Another motion from my fingers, and he floats toward me, twisting midair so he’s facing me head-on .
I take a step forward, my head tilted slightly, and smile. “When you’ve lived as long as I have, hunting loses its excitement. It becomes a chore. So you find ways to make it entertaining.”
I lift my free hand, slowly shifting it into what I know will haunt him the most. My skin hardens, rippling unnaturally as my hand grows into something monstrous—a talon, black and jagged, my claws long as daggers and ending in vicious points.
The movement alone makes a faint slicing sound, like the air itself is struggling to avoid being torn apart.
Connor’s scream pierces the basement, sharp and relentless. He thrashes harder, his body jerking against the invisible force holding him. “No, no, no, please!” He screams for help that isn’t coming.
I watch him, almost amused, until a voice stops me.
“Uncle, wait.”
I turn my head at the sound of Hazel’s voice. She’s still standing close, wiping at her face with trembling hands. Her voice is steady, but her swollen eyes tell me she’s barely holding it together.
“Let me do it,” she says, her voice deeper now, more grounded in the gravity of what she’s asking.
I pause, then bow my head. Who am I to deny her? This vengeance belongs to her. I step aside, watching as she approaches, steady and determined.
I use my magic to lower Connor’s dangling body to her level. He jerks as if he can somehow break free, but I keep him restrained, his arms locked, his legs pinned. He’s powerless. As he should be.
Hazel stops right in front of him, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She stares, her eyes clouded with a fury that’s been building for years. Tears stream down her cheeks, but she doesn’t wipe them away. She doesn’t look away.
“Why?” she asks, her voice shaking but still focused and unwavering. “I never did anything to you. Why did you do this to me?”
Connor starts blubbering, his once-cocky face now a pitiful wreck. “I—I’m sorry,” he stammers, tears spilling down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Hazel.”
I scoff quietly. An apology. That’s what he offers her? As if the disgusting words spilling out of his mouth will fix anything. If she wasn’t standing there, I’d rip his throat out just for trying.
I glance at Hazel. Her tears keep falling, and I feel that familiar ache in my chest, the one I always feel when women—strong, resilient women—break. It’s unbearable. I could burn the world to ashes just to see her smile again.
My fists clench at my sides, but I stay where I am. I won’t take this moment from her. She needs this. She needs to finish this herself.
My gaze softens as I watch her. “Hazel,” I say her name softly, almost as a reminder that I am here. That I’ll step in the second she stumbles, though I know she won’t.
She doesn’t look at me. Her attention stays locked on Connor, her expression twisting into something darker, harder. Rage rolls off her in waves, suffusing the room.
I can smell it—the intense need for vengeance pouring off of her, raw and unfiltered. She doesn’t just want him to pay, she needs him to. For the pain he caused. For every piece of herself she’s been forced to recover.
She draws in a trembling breath, her hands loosening at her sides, and I know she’s ready. This is her moment, and I won’t interfere.
“You took everything from me. I’ll never be the same. You killed me that night. The old Hazel is dead. I don’t even know who I am anymore,” Hazel says, her voice breaking as tears flow freely down her face.
Connor starts to open his mouth, but I’m done listening to him. I flick my fingers, locking his jaw with a spell before he can spit out another worthless apology. His head jerks in frustration, but no sound escapes him. My beasts inside me roar, clawing to take control, begging me to shove Hazel aside and end this myself. But I keep my ground. They’ll have to wait. This isn’t my reckoning. It’s hers.
Hazel stands there, trembling, her rage barely contained. Kade moves forward, placing a gentle hand on Hazel’s shoulder. I see Hazel glance at Kade, her face fragile, broken, but Kade just gives her a soft, reassuring smile.
“Go ahead, Hazel. Set yourself free,” Kade says in a low, steady voice.
Hazel nods, gripping the burning need for vengeance building inside her. She steps back, lifting her hands as magic starts to hum around her. Blue and green light swirls into her palms like liquid fire, pooling and pulsing with her anger. The air thickens, vibrating with power, and I can feel her magic growing, wild and untamed, begging to be unleashed.
With a sharp scream, Hazel throws it—directly at Connor.
The magic strikes him, and the effect is immediate. His skin begins to shred from his body, ripped apart like wet paper. Strips of flesh fly in every direction, blood spraying across the room in thick, violent streaks.
His screams rip through the basement, high-pitched and raw, each screech of agony louder than the last. The muscle beneath his skin quivers and tears apart, layer by layer, blood pooling beneath him like a river. His body convulses as he is suspended, completely at her mercy.
I watch it all, a wicked grin stretching across my face. His torment is as satisfying as I imagined, though I won’t deny I would have preferred doing it myself. But watching Hazel’s wrath come to life, seeing the venom in her eyes—it’s worth it. She reminds me so much of her mother, Aya—my sister. The same unrelenting fire. The same quiet strength.
The same unflinching razor edge beneath the sadness. The resemblance is striking, and with every passing moment, I see Aya’s fury more and more in her daughter. It’s a memory and a warning rolled into one, and I feel pride swell in my chest. This is how justice is carried out. It’s ugly. It’s cruel. And it’s deserved.
“I hate you! I hate all of you!” Hazel’s voice cracks as she screams, her magic still pulsing in her hands, the raw emotion fueling it. Then she breaks. All the anger, all the rage, collapses into despair. Her screams turn to sobs as she falls apart, her face crumpling as tears pour out of her.
Kade steps forward, movement slow, cautious, her arms already lifting to comfort Hazel. But I hold up my hand sharply, stopping her. “Leave her,” I say firmly.
Kade doesn’t argue. She backs off, keeping her distance, her gaze flicking between me and Hazel in quiet understanding. Hazel has to feel this. That’s the price of justice.
Connor doesn’t stop screaming. The sound is music to me—satisfying in ways words could never capture. But Hazel isn’t done yet.
She takes in a sobbing breath, her hands still radiating magic, and forms a smaller orb of blue light in her palm. It burns, bright and sharp, like a miniature flame. Hazel flings it at Connor’s groin with precision.
Connor’s body convulses as his screams hit a new, frantic pitch. His genitals explode the second the magic crashes into him. Blood and viscera splatter across the room, droplets landing on Hazel’s face and clothes. Her hands drop, stained in his blood, and for a split second, she stands there, staring at him as his body jerks wildly, his life slipping away with every second.
But it’s not enough for her. Hazel pulls her hands back again, magic surging fast and angry, this time pooling into a larger orb. The light spills out, growing wider, stronger, until it barely fits in her hand. She hurls it, aiming for his head.
His skull explodes on impact. Blood sprays like mist, bone fragments scatter, and chunks of brain matter slap against the walls and floor. What’s left of his headless corpse collapses to the ground in a limp heap, his blood spreading in a dark, thick pool beneath him. Silence follows, broken only by Hazel’s ragged, uneven breaths.
She stands there, the enormity of it all crashing down on her shoulders. Her chest heaves as she takes in shallow, desperate breaths, the remnants of blood and magic lingering around her. Her knees look ready to give out, but she doesn’t fall—not yet. All she does is breathe, her trembling hands curling into fists at her sides.
I watch her for a long moment, that wicked grin easing into something quieter. This is the cost of vengeance. It will try to drag her down, but the freedom... the freedom will carry her back up. She just doesn’t know it yet.
With a flick of my fingers, I summon a chair into the room, one fitting of royalty. The legs curve perfectly, polished dark wood reflecting its craftsmanship. The armrests are wide, carved with intricate designs that seem to pulse with power. The cushions are thick and upholstered in rich burgundy leather, exuding luxury even from across the room. It’s not just a chair—it’s a throne .
Hazel looks over at it, then back at me. Her face is streaked with blood spatters, her eyes glassy but steady. I bow my head, lifting a hand to gesture toward it.
“I’m done,” she says quietly, her voice hollow.
She walks to the chair, her steps slow and heavy, as though she’s carrying the world on her shoulders. She sits down, settling into the seat with her hands resting on the armrests. The shift in posture says it all. She just claimed her power back.
Good. She earned it.
I step forward, my chest constricting. I’m ready to finish this.
“Please let us kill some of them, please?” Kade’s voice pulls my focus.
I glance at her and smile, her bloodlust practically radiating off of her. I consider it for a moment before flicking my wrist. The eight remaining cages clink open, the men inside scrambling out like rats let loose from a trap.
“Have at it,” I tell Kade, stepping aside.
Kade doesn’t hesitate. They share one look, one wicked grin, and within seconds they move. Faster than the humans can track, they’re upon them. The men don’t stand a chance.
The air is filled with screams, desperate and shrill, overpowered by the brutal sound of tearing flesh. One by one, and Kade takes her time. Blood splatters the walls, pooling on the floor as they rip through their prey. The crack of bones snapping makes my ears twitch in satisfaction. It’s chaos. It’s carnage. But to me, it’s music.
I turn my attention to Mike. He’s frozen, standing in the corner of his cage, sweat dripping from his brow. The fear coming off him is intoxicating. This isn’t the fake bravado he used to wear like armor—this is raw, genuine fear. I can smell it, and it makes me grin .
“I have money,” he pleads, his voice shaking. “I’ll pay you. Name your price.”
I chuckle, low and deep, taking a step closer to him. “I want your heart,” I say simply, watching as his eyes widen with terror.
“Please,” he stammers, stumbling back against the bars. “Please! I’ll leave her alone. I’ll never bother her again.”
I bark out a laugh. “Oh, you’re absolutely right about that,” I say, my voice dipping. “You won’t bother my mate ever again. Nor will you harm or trap another woman as long as you exist—and you will not exist much longer.”
With a flick of my fingers, his cage creaks open, the hinges groaning. Mike tries to press himself against the farthest corner, but it’s useless. I lift my hand, and his body rises off the ground, his feet dangling, his panic spilling over as he thrashes.
“You were going to rape my mate,” I snarl, my voice rising over his screams. “You human men never learn. You see women as toys, possessions, things to control. Yet you fail to see the truth. It’s your greed and thirst for power that’s poisoned this world. You treat women like they’re nothing, when they’re everything—your strength, your balance, your future.” I pause, my anger spiking as Mike shakes his head violently, tears streaming down his face. “Instead of cherishing them, you destroy them. That’s why your world is dying.”
I hold up my hand, watching as it shifts into a talon. My skin hardens and grows black, the transformation grotesque and deliberate. The long claws glint under the light, curved and razor-sharp. Mike stares at it, his mouth opening in a silent scream as he realizes what’s about to happen.
“Please!” he screams, but I’ve already decided. His pleas mean nothing .
Without another word, I drive my talon into his chest. The bones of his ribcage crack and give way under the force. Blood pours out, spilling thick and hot down his front. His eyes widen impossibly, his mouth gaping like a fish as his breath catches—shallow, ragged, broken. He gasps, trying to form words, but no sound comes.
My claws dig deeper, wrapping around his heart. The muscle twitches against my fingers, still fruitlessly beating, even as I pull it free from the cage of his chest. Blood drips from the organ, hot and thick, pooling at my feet.
I rip my hand out, letting his lifeless body collapse to the ground in a heavy thud. His dead eyes stare at the ceiling, the light gone from them. He’s nothing now. Just a wasted shell.
The heart still beats in my claw. The muscle doesn’t yet realize it’s been severed. That amuses me. I raise it to my mouth, sinking my teeth into it, savoring the tang of blood that bursts onto my tongue. This moment isn’t just vengeance—it’s satisfaction in its rawest form.
I step toward Hazel as I devour the heart. My niece doesn’t flinch. Usually, she can’t stomach seeing me like this—tearing and feasting. But tonight, she doesn’t look at me. She just stares ahead, her focus distant, her mind untangling the messy things inside her.
She’s letting go. She’s accepting everything. This is part of her healing.
I smile to myself, my chest still thrumming from the bloodshed. Kade and Andrew stand near the bodies, their faces splattered with blood, their satisfaction evident as they admire their work. The basement stinks of death and is littered with carnage. It’s a mess of blood, guts, and gore in every corner, and it’s perfect.
It’s time to get back to Anora. I miss her already.