Chapter 18 Kage
Kage
THE EXECUTIONER
Dick is one boring motherfucker. I’ve been tailing him for two hours now.
So far he’s led us absolutely nowhere, wasting time I could be spending with Wren.
Preferably with her riding my face and making those little noises that have my dick busting at the seams, ready to slide into that sweet pussy.
He does the same shit everyday. Goes to work at his boring desk job, orders the same boring meal for lunch everyday, and goes to the gym after he's off.
But I swear he has to just be fucking sitting in the locker room diddling his dick, because I could quite literally break this dudes spine across my knee.
I track his every move; every twitch of his jaw when he checks his phone, every careless turn of the wheel as if he owns the road.
He moves through the world like nothing can touch him.
But I know better. I’ve got him mapped like a fucking GPS and he has no idea how close the end is. How close I am.
I still have tracking on my little bird, so when I saw this piece of shit was heading straight for her on that trail, my hands flexed around the throttle like it was his throat.
When I get there, I see her running. Headphones on, that pretty little body moving like she’s trying to outrun the demons biting at her ankles.
But one of those demons just stepped out of the trees.
Fucking Dick, that motherfucker.
He says something, but I don't give a fuck what it is. He grabs her, and the world narrows. All I see is fucking red. This is a common theme when he’s around.
My bike skids sideways into the gravel as I kill the engine. Helmet off, boots pounding the earth before the bike even stops rocking on its kickstand. I’m moving before I’ve thought it through. No time for strategy or cleverness. Only time for bloodshed.
He doesn’t hear me. Too busy trying to reel her in like some cheap prize he thinks he’s earned. One hand on her arm, the other gesturing as if he’s got any right. This motherfucker signed his death warrant the second he touched what’s mine.
She’s shouting now, clearly terrified. But then she sees me and her face changes completely. A flicker of hope, confusion, and something raw in her eyes, but it’s drowned in Dicks’s voice. That slimy, too-smooth murmur that reminds me all too well of the despicable men I've murdered over the years.
He doesn't see me until I'm close enough to smell his foul cologne. Then he turns, and his eyes go wide. That's all I need.
I hit him. Hard.
The moment I make contact with him, something inside me snaps.
My muscles tense with anticipation, the need to hurt him, to make him feel every second of torture.
The way he flinches, the way his breath catches, it’s everything I’ve been waiting for.
I’ve let him off easy too many times now, but out here, where no one can see us, I’m not making that mistake again.
He goes down like the giant sack of shit he is, sprawling in the dirt.
There's a crack. I hope it's his ribs. Actually, I hope it's worse, but I don't have time to check. I’m on him. Fists and elbows flying, letting out every ounce of my rage. Every second he breathed near her, every unwanted touch, my fists kept score and right now there’s no ref.
Grabbing his shoulders with both hands, I haul him off the ground and slam him into the nearest tree.
The force of his weight and my anger sends a shockwave through the tree.
Birds scatter and leaves fall around us like a tornado of my emotions.
One hand goes to his throat, the other hovering over the gun in my waistband.
“You really thought,” I growl, my voice low and lethal, “you thought you could touch her and still have working hands?”
He’s making wet, wheezing sounds now as his hands claw at my wrist. His face is turning a beautiful shade of red.
Good.
He flails, eyes darting to Wren thinking that maybe she’s going to save him.
I feel her hands on me eventually. Not pulling me off, not really. Just there, grounding me. It’s as if she’s been waiting for this moment almost as long as I have and wants to savor it a little longer. I knew deep down she was like me.
“Kage,” her voice slices through the moment.
Tight and controlled, like she’s holding herself back.
I don’t look at her. Not yet. My fingers tighten around his throat, just enough to remind him he’s one mistake away from never fucking breathing again.
My rage thrums under my skin, hot and demanding. It wants blood. It wants screams.
But I already know what she’s telling me, and she’s right. We need this fucker alive. For now.
I lean in, slow and careful, until I can see the panic bloom in his eyes.
“The next time you touch her, I’ll carve the tendons from your fucking hands.
” I shove him back with one last slam before letting go.
He drops to the ground, a dead weight as he gasps, choking on each breath he takes, and scrambles backwards on all fours like the coward he is.
I crack my neck, never taking my eyes off him. “Get the fuck out of my sight.”
He stares at me as if he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he runs. Good boy.
I finally turn to Wren. Her face is pale and her eyes are wide. That bruise on her cheek is still there and darker than it was last night. It makes my blood boil all over again. Jimmy better get his shit together cause I don't think I have it in me to let this fucker breathe any longer.
“Get on the bike,” I say, my voice like gravel and laced with venom.
She blinks. “Excuse me? I drove here. I can’t just leave my car—”
I step forward, close enough that she has to tilt her head back to keep looking at me. My voice drops even lower, leaving no room for argument.
“Get on the fucking bike, Wren.”