Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Every evil in the world has a past.
If we can excuse or justify, it depends on us.”
Orion
Orion
Jazz music blasts from the speakers, echoing through the space and adding to the grim, gloomy, and desperate atmosphere that pollutes the air in this dark, spacious dungeon, an art form in itself.
I wouldn’t expect anything else from Levi, although when I was his age, I preferred a slightly different setting because the rawness of it added to the constant storm brewing in my veins.
Various torture devices fill the place, from electric chairs to huge crosses where one might be nailed to death.
My lips twitch at Levi’s creativity and insanity, I’d be curious how he uses it and on whom.
I look at the tables heavy with knives, blades, electric drills, axes, and guns, all in different sizes. Rare, expensive pieces that one might find only if they have wealth and connections.
I call the likes of us artists for a reason, because we use the torture devices as our equipment of choice in creating a masterpiece that’s human suffering, and their bodies serve as canvases that we can display for the world to see, so they can appreciate our work.
Then again, rarely, if ever, the people who end up on the other end of our rage can be called human, for their hideous deeds destroy lives and entrap souls in eternal agony.
A whimper shifts my attention to the wall in front of me, where a man is chained to the ceiling.
The sharp thorns on his collar cut into his neck and cause blood to spill onto his chest, staining his white shirt that’s drenched in sweat.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his bare feet moving to the side, and he cries out when he steps on the shattered glass underneath them.
“I didn’t mean to hurt her.” He raises his eyes to me, tears streaming down his cheeks as he grips the collar, his entire face pleading with me, which is rather pathetic.
His dark hair is soaked with sweat, and by the stain on his pants, along with the disgusting smell reeking from him, Grant has already pissed himself.
Ah, the cowards who wield their power over those who have no means to protect themselves can never stand a chance against someone stronger than them.
They fold like cheap paper towels, and this enrages me more.
“What didn’t you mean to do, Grant?” I ask, grabbing the whiskey bottle from a nearby table and pouring a generous amount into a glass. “Tell me.”
Hope flashes on his face. All this talk about his brilliance must have been a lie, because why else would this idiot assume that my asking him this question means anything good for him?
“Diana is not who she seems.” He licks his chapped-from-tape lips, wincing when his tongue touches his bruised skin, and pulls at the collar once again.
“She’s a liar, and I tried to protect her from herself, but she wouldn’t listen.
I had to use force to keep her in line.”
Shaking my drink a little, I watch the ice slowly dissolve, and the glass grows colder. Such a contrast to the rage spreading fire all over me that wishes to burn the guy until nothing is left.
However, I agree with Levi.
A punishment has to fit the crime, so I won’t kill him.
Although he might prefer death over what I plan to do to him next.
My wife had to live with the consequences of his petty jealousy, as he couldn’t find it in himself to love his sister, even though what happened wasn’t her fault.
I could never understand him. I hated my father with everything in me, but that hatred never transferred onto Actaeon.
The time has come for Grant to pay the price for his transgressions.
“Is that so?”
“Yes. She makes up these stories in her head. She’s just trying to gain your sympathy. Don’t believe her.” He cries out again when he takes a step to the side, the glass cutting deeper into his foot, and the blood dripping onto the gray parquet. “She’s psychotic. You just don’t know her.”
Another thing about abusive cowards?
They would always lie and try to present themselves in a better light while coming up with nonexistent dirt on their victims, smearing their public image until everyone just assumes they are crazy.
And society is so gullible that they often listen to such lies. Case in point, Grant wouldn’t have used the same tactic on me if it hadn’t worked out for him in the past.
“Her mom was crazy too. She killed herself because Dad broke up with her. They both belong in a mental institution.” He spits blood. “Like mother, like daughter.”
It takes all my self-control not to shoot him right there and then for daring to speak such words about my wife and her mother, whose life has been a tragedy.
After Rafael gave me the folder with information on Jones, I used my connections to double-check his involvement in my father’s illegal businesses.
Turns out he knew about the strip clubs, high-paying escorts, and even gambling. However, he had no idea about his more deviant preferences and never participated in any crimes.
Still, Diana’s mother was a seventeen-year-old girl who my father lured into his trap, only to parade her in front of his wealthy acquaintances, and Jones, for all his family image, couldn’t resist the temptation.
In fact, he was so enamored with her that he didn’t want anyone else to have her and paid my father a lot of money every month to reserve that right.
Conrad encouraged it all, as it gave him leverage against Jones in case he decided to turn on him, and the woman fell in love so much that she was willing to do anything.
“My mother was nothing like her,” Grant continues, probably hoping for his explanation to inspire sympathy in me, yet I have none for him.
As a child who knows what it is like to lose his mother, how could he have been so cruel to a little girl who was left all alone?
Jones didn’t even love her, so there was no competition for his attention. “And we lost her because of them too.”
“Hers was a tragic accident.”
Anger flashes on his pathetic face. “No! She found out about that whore.”
“Then it’s your father who killed her. He is the one who forgot about your parents’ vows and cheated on your mother.” Grant shakes his head as if he's wishing to forget this fact, but sadly for him, I don’t support people in their delusions. “One might say your anger was misplaced.”
“Diana is difficult. She will betray you and hurt you when you least expect it. It’s in their nature.”
Taking a small sip of my drink, I welcome the burning sensations gliding down my throat. It adds to the fire rapidly growing inside me. The way he speaks about my woman and her mother drives me further to the brink of no return. “And what nature is that?”
“Useless whores who control men with their charms.”
His father exploited Diana’s mother sexually and morally, and now he dares to speak about her as if she deserved it all?
Unfortunately, weak men like Jones, who could never accept their faults, raise men like Grant who think everyone else is to blame for their failures, not themselves.
I pause by the knives, spread in all their splendor, the sharp edges feeling heavy against the pads of my fingers, and, studying several of them, I pick the sharpest.
Wrapping my hand around the wooden handle, I walk toward Grant.
He exhales a heavy breath and freezes when I ask him another question, panic glazing over his eyes.
“Do you know what they did to liars back in the day, Grant?” My boots thump loudly as I come closer to him, and with each of my steps, his trembling intensifies. “They cut off their tongues.”
“No, I’m—” Whatever he wants to say turns into an agonized scream when I pour whiskey on his face, the alcohol burning his open wounds. Bringing the knife to his cheek, I push it hard enough until it pierces the skin, dragging it down and creating a huge scar that no one would be able to miss.
Like the one on Diana’s back. It’s barely visible, and I’ve never mentioned it to her, but I know I'll recognize a belt buckle scar when I see one.
It kills me that no amount of hurting Grant would make up for all the atrocities he has inflicted on her.
“No, no…” he barely whispers as I pull out the knife and throw it away, punching him in the stomach, and he bends forward, struggling to breathe when the thorns dig into his neck deeper.
Grabbing the chain, I tug on it until it breaks, and he falls to his knees, hitting the ground with a loud thud.
He coughs, only to scream once again when I grab the chain and circle it around his throat, flexing it tight.
“The thing about loyalty, Grant? You must earn it. And you did nothing to earn that from the people who’ve worked for you.
” As he struggles to gasp for air, I tug at the chain and drag him toward the barrel full of water.
He whimpers when his knees glide through the glass, further cutting into his flesh, not that I give a fuck.
The more misery it all brings him, the better.
“For the right price, they were willing to tell me everything you did to my wife over the years.” I lift him by the chair and then dunk his head into the water without warning, keeping him there for several beats before pulling him back out and letting him gulp in air for several heartbeats.
“I know everything, Grant, and while I won’t kill you…
at some point, you’ll wish I did,” I taunt, dipping his head underwater again.
He tries to struggle in my grip, the blood turning the water red, and what a splendid sight it is. Pulling his head back, I enjoy watching the salty water dripping all over his wounds.
“Nobody hurts my wife and gets away with it.”
He coughs and splutters and cries, gripping the barrel. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Except begging for forgiveness right now does nothing for me.
My wife’s prayers stayed unanswered all these years, so Grant doesn’t get mercy from me.
Through the night, I subject him to all the hideous things he did to Diana. I multiply the punishment and make it more unbearable, treading on the fine line between hurting him and killing him.
Finally, once done, I send him to a hospital knowing full well he won’t ever speak about what I did to a single soul, and Rafael already has a secured alibi for me in case the idiot would be stupid enough to try to go after me.
Cleaning up the dungeon, I leave it spotless and call Levi. He picks up on the second ring.
“I’m all done. I’ll send you the keys.”
He chuckles, and I hear the roaring of a motorcycle in the background. “There is no need. I’ll change the locks.” The cocky bastard doesn’t trust anyone, and I bet he has cameras in here to keep evidence against me should I turn on him or his family.
As I said, the Scotts never do anything that would put them at a disadvantage, and they fiercely protect one another.
Not that I give a fuck. I have my own evidence to last me a lifetime, so if he plays that card, I’ll play mine. “I’ll see you at the engagement party, Orion.”
Brother of the bride-to-be except…
“Make sure not to upset my cousin, Levi. I’m sure Rush and Aileen would prefer a drama-free party.”
Another roaring of the engine echoes in my ear, followed by his cold words that serve as a warning in themselves, and I find all this deeply hilarious despite the disaster they promise in the future.
“I don’t remember Rush thinking about me when he kidnapped my sister. This conversation is over, Wright.”
He hangs up, and I can’t even take offense at his tone.
Levi Scott craves payback, but that was inevitable, wasn’t it?
You don’t cross a lion hungry for blood.
In fact, I know more than he suspects, and somehow Lavender ended up being collateral damage in all this mess as she’s also leverage he can use to lure out the ghost from the past.
My cousins won’t be able to stop him. The only man who can is his own father, and it would be a dreadful sight to watch them go against each other.
In a lot of ways, Lachlan and Levi are each other’s mirror image, so I know he won’t listen to any reason.
I can’t blame Levi, though.
If someone stood between my wife and me, I’d destroy them and watch them burn with pleasure.
She became irrevocably mine, and nothing would ever separate us. Even if or when she discovers the truth.
Forever mine and only mine.
After all…
Life is not fair.
It’s cruel and vicious.
And the sooner we accept that fact, the easier it will be to bear it.