Chapter 24 #2
Ew. We have the full attention of the bar, something I didn’t plan, but won’t be an issue. I plan to disappear back to my little town as soon as this is over,
Pulling the hood of my coat over my hair, I walk-run through the lobby, toward the doors that’ll empty into a courtyard.
“You’re making me look bad,” Brad hisses as I slam my hands down on the bar of the door and escape.
“Eat my shit, asshole!” I yell, running down the stairs and turning to find him right behind me.
“Maybe I’ll turn you into a human toilet and let my bosses have a turn with you!” he yells.
My stomach turns, and I turn and flee toward the woods at the back of the property.
“You’re never touching me again!” I scream, my feet flying along the hard packed ice. As long as I don’t slip, I’ll be fine.
His heavy footsteps follow me as I run. I don’t have a plan, I just know that my pack is waiting for me in the woods. I’m fully accepting them, even though I asked Harlan to ask me to marry him another time.
I need more time for that, I don’t know if he’s serious, I just don’t know—
“Argh!”
Someone rips me off my feet and clamps their hand over my mouth to cut off my scream. My teeth are chattering, and my body is shaking. I’m getting ready to kick back and fight, needing to escape, completely forgetting people on my side are in these woods, when I inhale sharply.
Even in the freezing cold air, I can smell the scent of amber and saffron.
“It’s me, baby,” Harlan breathes against the shell of my ear. “You’re safe. Want to go hunt with me? You’ll never be the pretty little doe forced to bend ever again.”
“Hey, Twat Waddle,” Izzy says, his face covered as he steps before a confused Brad. My ex-foster brother’s eyes are comical as he faces Izzy, a faceless man with a fucking hatchet in his hand.
Gone is any hint of a Spanish accent, and in its place is a good ole boy Southern one.
“Accents are something all of us can pull,” Harlan says softly.
“What…what the fuck is this?” Brad asks, taking a step back.
We’re far enough from the hotel that no one will hear him, especially not with how cold it is. It’s dark, no one wants to be outside in the dead of winter. Even better?
Snow softens sounds and buries them.
“Go be scary, baby,” Harlan purrs, pressing a bat into my hand.
Grinning, I squeeze the familiar weapon in my hand as I step out of the sanctuary of the tree and Harlan.
Syrus and Kyren come out of hiding as well, their faces covered as they stand menacingly with hatchets in hand.
Kyren’s red hair is hidden underneath his ski mask, and all I can see are his sage green eyes practically glowing with anger.
“This is your past coming back to haunt you,” I say, slamming the bat into Brad's stomach. “Are you going to stand there and let me hit you? Or are you going to run from my pack?”
“Fuck,” Harlan groans. The rest of the men around me growl appreciatively while I raise my brow at Brad.
“Well?” I ask.
“You are a whore, but crazier than the last time I fucked you!” he yells, turning to run.
“Oh fun!” I squeal, taking off after him.
“Can we take her on more hunts?” Kyren drawls.
“Fuck no,” Syrus grunts, even though Kyren wasn’t asking him.
Whooping, I grin as I watch Brad almost faceplant into the snow. I bash the bat against his ass, making him groan. Catching himself, he runs faster, and I nod.
“It’s time to party, boys,” I giggle, riding the endorphins.
The fear is gone, I’m no longer prey.
Brad is.
An arrow shoots over my shoulder, sinking itself into Brad’s back. Kyren skips comically through the snow, and together, we stalk Brad past large trees standing sentinel in witness to this kill. Brad has let himself go, and he’s not as powerful and scary as he used to be.
Too much time behind a desk, not enough being active.
A battle cry screams behind me, and a hatchet sinks into Brad’s thigh. It feels as if I’m high as I run ahead and bash my bat into his head.
“Silva!” he cries out, holding his head with a hand but not going down. “What the fuck!”
Brad attempts to grab me, but Syrus swings me away so Izzy can cut his fucking fingers off.
“No touchey,” Izzy murmurs. “That’s what got you into our sights to begin with. You like to touch things that don’t belong to you.”
“How many times did Silva tell you no?” Harlan asks, watching as Brad screams, holding his hand against him.
“She never did!” he screams, running again.
“Well, it’s hard to say no when your mouth is full, isn’t it?” I muse.
“Fucking asshole,” Kyren says, his arrow hitting true on his crossbow again at closer quarters. Brad stumbles and falls against a tree, breathing hard as I squeeze Syrus’ arm and begin walking again.
Surrounding me, the guys begin to stalk again.
“Is there a road he’ll be able to stumble onto?” I ask. My voice is calm, almost nonchalant as if I don’t care either way. The truth is that I do, I just need to know how much time we have to play.
Harlan has a bag slung over his back as we walk, loping beside us as he watches Brad’s movements.
“Nah,” Kyren says. “It’s woods for miles, Princess. We can play as long as you want.”
“Cool.” I say, handing the bat to Syrus as I pull out my knife. “He threatened to turn me into a human toilet and pass me to his bosses.”
“Yeah, I fucking heard that,” Syrus grumbles, but I’m already running and climbing Brad like a tree.
“Timber,” Izzy says helpfully, slamming his hatchet into one of Brad’s achilles tendons.
“Fuck!” he screams, flailing out to hit me before he falls on his face.
I can’t feel the cold of the snow as I run on righteous anger, and I smash his head further into its iciness as I straddle his back.
Izzy pulls off Brad’s shoes, singing a song about “Dale duro” under his breath.
“Oh, is it time to cut off his dick yet?” Harlan asks, bending down to help him.
“Maybe you should peel off his eyelids,” Syrus suggests, settling on his haunches beside me.
They all want a piece of him, but they’re letting me run the show. Yanking on Brad’s sweat and snow darkened hair, I hum as I hold him still.
“Help?” I suggest.
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t move, Spitfire,” he promises, his hand finding a good grip as I release Brad.
“You’ve been a very bad boy, Brad,” I say, digging my thumbs into his eyes.
“You’re going to pay for this,” he grits out, trying to buck me off.
Stabbing him in the shoulder, I grin as he stills and Kyren grabs his hands.
“I doubt that,” I reply, squeezing and pulling on his eyelid.
“Fuck, no, don’t!”
My knife slides perfectly through the little bit of skin, making it so he can no longer blink or close that eye. Unfortunately, blood trickles over his cheeks and stains the ground from when the knife was buried in his shoulder.
“I did,” I say, giggling. I don’t giggle, ever. But I’m feeling giddy as fuck. “Next one!”
“You stupid bitch. I should have taken my turn with your sister!”
Without a thought, my hand with the knife moves. Time seems to blink and the tip of his tongue drops onto the snow.
“Oops,” I murmur, slicing off the tip of his nose next. I keep my knives very sharp. “I’m going to continue to slice off body parts.”
Fair is fair. He took little pieces of my soul and I never got them back.
“Let me turn him around and hold him for you,” Izzy says.
Nodding, I stand up, watching as he and Kyren cut off the rest of Brad’s clothing. They’re not at all gentle, and blood continues to drip along his skin, turning the snow red as they hoist him up.
He took my innocence, and the snow looks a lot like the splatter it left on my soul.
“What is she gonna do?” Brad slurs, making me shrug as I pull out my long, thin stun gun.
“Let’s start with frying your tiny, tiny dick,” I suggest, pressing my stun gun against it.
“Fuck!” he screams, making Syrus sigh as he pulls off the handkerchief around his face.
“You’re such a goddamned baby,” he groans, gagging him. The material easily ties at the back of his head, and I begin to press the weapon against multiple parts of his exposed skin.
“Try this, baby,” Harlan says, drawing my attention to him. He’s holding a cigar in Izzy’s mouth, and the tip glows low as Izzy puffs on it.
“Fuck, that’s a new one,” Izzy sighs happily. “Torture and cigars. Two of my favorite things.”
Smirking, I take the cigar from Harlan and press it against Brad’s nipple.
“I know cigarettes are one of your preferred ways of hurting me, Brad,” I croon. “This doesn’t feel very good, does it? Mmhmm. Maybe you can catch a bubble and think on that, twatwaffle.”
Izzy and Kyren hold Brad at a height that I can reach him, but he uses it as an excuse to attempt to kick me. Faster than I can track, Syrus has a hatchet in his hand and slams it down on Brad’s leg as I jump away.
“She said to catch a goddamned bubble, not to kick. Damn, what kind of wax is in your ears?” he growls.
It’s a small hatchet, and just leaves a large gash on Brad’s leg as he pulls it out.
“Thanks, baby,” I murmur.
Syrus moves over and kisses me. It’s filthy, sexy, and has lots of tongue.
“You’re with all of them?” Brad asks, his words full of blood, muffled from the gag, and hard to understand.
His skin is messy, but he’s not nearly fucked up enough.
“You’re lopsided,” I murmur. My logic might not make sense to others, but Izzy picks up on what I need immediately.
“I can help with that,” Izzy says, slashing his other leg tendon as Brad begins to cry.
“Look, you’re gonna be all fucked up,” I murmur, enjoying the fact that he’s now kneeling in the snow and being held in place.
Piece by piece, I cut off fingers, toes, and his other eyelid.
I hit him with the bat, slap, and kick him as well.
Unleashing my rage, I also watch as the guys systematically break bones, dropping him in the snow so Syrus can stomp on him with his boots.
There are cigar burns all over his body, and his cock is flaccid but still intact enough to piss all over himself.