Chapter Two
Kade
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It doesn’t take me long to get back to the bar.
I slip into the shadows across the street, watching the prick from earlier stumble out with his friends. He’s already draped over another girl, arm slung around her shoulders, dragging her in close. She’s stiff, uncomfortable, eyes darting around for an exit she doesn’t have.
She doesn’t understand what real danger feels like.
Not yet. Not until I step out of the dark.
I slide my mask over my face, the cold material settles against my skin, the skeletal shape turning me into something unrecognizable. Something people whisper about. Something they fear.
The mask hides everything my face, my intent, the part of me that refuses to let filth roam this city unchecked. It makes the things I do harder to trace, harder to understand, harder to stop.
People talk about a ghost that moves through the streets. A shadow that hunts the ones who prey on others. A presence that appears when someone crosses a line they shouldn’t have even approached.
Traffickers, abusers, men who think they can take whatever they want from whoever they want.
They all learn the same lesson in the end.
I stay tucked in the shadows across the street, watching that prick stagger toward his car, laughing with his friends, pretending he didn’t just put his hands on someone who didn’t want him. He drops his keys twice before he even reaches the door. Pathetic.
He finally manages to get inside, slumping into the driver’s seat, muttering to himself as he fumbles around on the floor for the keys he dropped again, that’s my moment.
I move before he even realizes the air has shifted.
One second he’s alone, the next I’m in the car with him.
His head snaps up, confusion flickering across his face, but he’s too drunk, too slow, too stupid to understand what’s happening.
My hand clamps over his mouth. The sound he tries to make dies instantly.
His eyes go wide, panic blooming fast. He tries to twist away, but he’s got nothing no strength, no clarity, no chance.
His body jerks once, twice, then the fight drains out of him. He slumps back into the seat, breath shallow, consciousness slipping through his fingers.
I hold him there until I’m sure he’s not going to suddenly wake up and make this messy.
He won’t.
The car goes quiet, just his uneven breathing and the distant hum of the street.
I stare down at him this useless, predatory waste of space who thought he could touch her, thought he could grab her, drag her around, ignore her fear.
Thought he could get away with it.
He won’t make that mistake again.
I’ll make sure he never hurts anyone again.
I pull the lever so it lays his seat all the way back and shove him backwards, grunting with effort as I haul his dead weight ass into the back seat, his frame slipping from the seat and half ending up in the foot well below.
I should have bought my truck.
I tear through the city in his car, thankful for the ungodly hour he decided to leave the bar.
The streets are quiet, too quiet.
I stop for yet another red light and a police cruiser passes, thankful for my decision to remove my mask I glance over at the patrol car and give them my best attempt at a friendly smile, a small wave keeps them moving once the light switches to amber, their headlights shifting out of view.
Smooth asshole, real smooth.
I loose a breath and pull into the quiet warehouse, the shutters automatically opening on my approach, Jaxon walks out wiping his hands with a rag when he sees me in my new car.
“Where the fuck did you get that from?” He questions, eyebrow raised in suspicion.
“Courtesy of my new friend back there, he was too tired to drive.” I say with a smirk and a wink, shutting off the engine once I’m far enough inside.
I wipe down the console and take the keys out of the ignition, I notice my captive starting to stir in the back, I take my boot and smash it into his face, the familiar sound of bones cracking and his facial structure shifting is like music to my ears.
“A little help here? Fuckers heavy.” I call out to Jaxon, who jogs over.
“Fuck sake dude, what did this sorry fucker do?” He questions, grabbing his feet and dragging him out of the car with me, I flash him a cheesy grin.
“He touched what wasn’t his to touch.” I deadpan.
We haul him onto the metal table. The chain on his trousers scrapes against the steel, echoing through the warehouse. I check his pockets, strip him of anything useful, then secure his wrists and ankles. He’s not going anywhere.
A leather strap goes across his mouth, muffling whatever pathetic noise he might make when he wakes. I step back, breathing steady, pulse calm.
“Go home, Jaxon. You don’t need to see what comes next.” My voice carries across the warehouse, low and flat. A warning more than a request.
He pauses mid-stride, rag still in his hand. “He really must have pissed you off, brother. Who did he hurt?”
I look at him, and the answer is already burning behind my teeth. “Remember that girl I told you about?”
It clicks instantly. His expression shifts, all the humor draining out of it. He nods once, sharp and understanding, and turns toward the exit without another question.
“I’m here if you need an alibi.” he says over his shoulder, then disappears through the door.
I sit in the metal chair, knife in hand, and wait for him to wake up.
It takes longer than I expect. The knife taps against my leg in an impatient rhythm, a steady beat that only stops when a muffled groan cuts through the quiet and pulls me out of my thoughts.
“Ah, good morning, sunshine,” I say as I stand.
He can only just see me from where he is, strapped down and half twisted on the table. His hands shoot up on instinct, but the chains stop him after a few inches, metal clinking as they drag him back.
“Don’t strain yourself, princess. We’re only just getting started.”
I lean over him so he gets a clear view of the mask.
Terror settles over his features, his eyes widening, the bloodshot red around them obvious under the bright light swinging above his head. Sweat beads at his brow as he keeps fighting the restraints, metal scraping against metal, grating on my nerves.
“Fucking stay still,” I growl.
He freezes.
“Now,” I say, tapping the knife against the mask, the plastic giving a dull thunk, “do you know how you’ve landed yourself in this little predicament?”
He tries to speak against the gag, words coming out as useless noise. I sigh.
“Oh, forgive me. I like to gag them,” I say, giving him a wink as I undo the strap.
He sucks in a breath like it is the first one he has had in hours. “Dude, I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry, okay? What do you want? Money? I have money, lots of it. My parents are rich. I’ll give you whatever you want.”
I let out a low chuckle.
He is already floundering and I have not even started to really push yet.
“Tsk. That isn’t why I have you here,” I say, voice sickeningly sweet. “Come on, Brayden. Think. Really think about it. Use that brain of yours.”
I watch the realization dawn in his eyes. Slowly at first. Then all at once.
He starts to fight harder, to shout, to call out for help that is not coming. “Fuck! Man, she was just some whore, I wanted an easy fuck, alright!” he yells, chains rattling as his legs kick out, tears springing into his eyes.
My hands slam down on the table beside his head.
“Do not ever speak about her that way,” I snarl.
My voice is unhinged, feral, stripped of any calm I had left.
His mouth snaps shut.
“Good, keep that mouth shut.” I growl as I walk over to the side table, my hands skimming over the instruments I have laid out just for him, I turn back to him and tilt my head “Where would you like to begin? Should we take it slow? No… You don’t like to take it slow do you, you take what you want, even if they say no.
” I pick up a pair of medical grade pliers, waving them over his face “Let’s see how well you talk shit after this.
” I wrench his mouth open, his protests continue as I shove the pliers into his mouth with brute force, the cracking puts a sadistic grin on my face as I shatter his front teeth, a muffled scream fills my ears as I lock them around one of his molars, I look into his eyes, my mask obscures everything but my eyes, but I let him see the enjoyment I’m getting from this, his eyes screw shut as I pull.
Crack, crack, crack.
I pull each and every tooth from his skull, once I’m done I gather them from the newly bloodstained table and place them into a box on the side.
He tries to speak but blood and saliva pool at his neck, painting a lovely trail down to his collarbones. “Lets see you bite back now.”
A cry escapes his throat, I chuckle as I head back to my side table “What’s next for you, lets see…”
My hand settles on a scalpel, I pick it up and examine it, razor sharp and deadly “Nah, that would be too quick, although…” I turn back to him, taking a seat on the stool at his side, I slice through his shirt, leaving it in tatters around him, exposing his torso and the stereotypical tattoos he has inked himself with.
“Really, how fucking cliche can you get?” I shake my head, leaning down I take the scalpel and start cutting away at the tattoos that offend my eyes the most.
That’s when the screams really start.
Ear piercing, like a child that has been put to bed before they were ready.
I carve away at him, piece by piece, taking my time and cauterizing the wounds so he doesn’t bleed too much, I want him conscious, I glance over at the adrenaline needles I have to hand if he tries to check out early.
His eyes start to roll back after I get to his stomach, I take a moment to admire the work.
The smell of burning flesh hits my nose as I lift the mask, I admire the way the blood has begun drying on the highest point of his chest, where I started, the wounds resembling a well done steak “Sorry, you’re probably a medium rare guy right?
” I smirk at him, his eyes snap open and he gets a full look at my face.
He knows who I am now.